Fighting the sob clinging to my chest, I swallowed, pushing past the angry lump in my throat. Yes, I was angry. Not only was my heart being ripped out from within my soon-to-be hollow chest, but his request pulled apart and tugged at the carefully created denial I had been living all of these years.
Fighting for breath, I fought for control. I desperately wanted to deny his words and was at the point of begging God for it to be over. I couldn’t take anymore. Unbidden, a fierce sob erupted, echoing around the room. Shaking my head in denial, I battled the words I knew he needed to hear.
“Sugar, I know you love me,” he rasped again.
I dared not look at his beautiful face, knowing I’d see so much pain in his features. Illness had taken the Dylan I was used to waking up to away. He’d lost so much weight he barely resembled his old healthy self. His face was gaunt and his eye sockets hollow. My own body hurt just looking at him and the pain he was constantly in. I couldn’t count the times I’d dropped to my knees and prayed to the gods or Heaven, or any greater power that might be out there, for a little relief for my sweet cowboy.
As he drifted off to sleep again, I whispered those words aloud, knowing full well it might be the first and only time I would lie to the man I loved. “I promise, Dylan”.
The gurgling sound that woke me was a noise I would never forget. I shot up in bed and looked around the dimly lit room; my chest thudding like a stampede of animals was running through it. Struggling to take in a breath, Dylan lay beside me. His lips pale and his eyes lacking anything other than tiredness. Panic kicked in and the instinct to call for help took over.
“Dylan!” I cried, reaching above him for the phone that lay on his bedside table.
He shook his head and moved his hand up to grab my arm. “No.”
That one fragmented one-syllable word broke me apart on the spot. He was leaving me. It was time for him to go and he was asking me not to stop it. Asking me not to call an ambulance and prolong it any more.
Unstoppable tears poured down my cheeks as I looked into the face of the man I loved so deeply, as I was made to watch him die. Not next week, not tomorrow, not even soon. Right there he was taking his last breaths.
“What can I do, Dylan? What do I do?” I begged through my sobs. Pain etched his beautiful face, although his eyes, which occasionally focused on my own, relayed his peace and acceptance. The knowledge tore at my heart and left me momentarily paralyzed. This is it. There was no longer anything I could do for him. Powerless, I looked on in panic, my eyes begging him to let me help.
“Just…” Gasp. “Hold…” Gasp. “Hand…” Gasp. I gripped his hand and sat beside him while he started up at me. The light that normally shone in his eyes diminished.
“I love you, Dylan. I’ll always love you.” I leaned down and kissed his cool, soft lips, my salty tears mixing between us. I didn’t want this to be goodbye. I had no idea how to do it. Where to start. How to begin, or inevitably how to finish.
“Always,” he rasped, “sugar.” With his last word, his eyes closed, released a drawn-out breath, and stopped breathing. I stared intently at his chest, willing it to move, willing him to breathe. His chest remained unmoving and his hand became limp in mine.
It wasn't enough time.
We barely had the chance to laugh, to dance, to cry, to make love, yet he was leaving me. Left me. I wanted to reach down and shake him, force him to fight, force him to breathe, for me, for him, for us. A sob built deep in my stomach as my heart, once more, shattered. There would be no coming back from this. He was my everything, yet he was gone.
“No,” I wept, pressing my lips to his still ones. “No!” My voice grew louder and more broken.
“Dylan!” I wailed. “Dylan. No!” I put my forehead against his and cried. “Please.” My words echoed around the still room, filling the emptiness with my broken pleas. As my words faded away, my fragmented sobs shook me, pushing me into despair. No amount of time, discussion or planning helped. None of the sweet words we’d spoken just the previous night eased the ache in my splinted heart.
He was gone. My Dylan was gone.
Jude
Dylan passed away. I received the call from Teeny. The cancer took him from her in the early hours of the morning as she sat by his side holding onto him. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. She was destroyed. The only thing harder than knowing the woman you love was grieving for another man was being powerless to take that pain away.
I’d keep that promise I made and I’d be right by her side when she needed me.
I wanted to heal her heartache. I wanted her to know Dylan asked me to take care of her…but I had to wait. It was too soon. She wouldn’t listen anyway.
Haven
The tears threatened to spill over as I stood in the dim light of the overcast day, while looking down into the cold, wet earth. My limbs and heart felt hollow as I stared blankly at the dark mahogany wood of his coffin, his final resting place amongst the hundreds of graves that made up this cemetery.
I loved him. I loved him yet I lost him. My heart was breaking all over again. Physical pain ripped through my chest as I gazed at the starkness of the marble headstones of pain and loss against the lush, green landscape. I’d never see him again. Never watch him pace when he was nervous, or laugh at one of his silly jokes, never get to pick on him for eating his dinner in color codes, never hear his soft voice tell me he loved me, never feel his pinkie wrapped around mine. I’d never feel his kisses or his heartbeat as I lay tangled in his arms. Never again, any of it. All of it, him, all gone.