The Many Shades of White
Your gentle laugh tinkled in my ears, like ringing bells, as you gazed up at me with your soft hazel eyes. It was Christmas Eve, the year 2000 and we were on our first date. I was incredibly nervous, butterflies in my tummy, as I struggled with conversation. You were just so beautiful. You asked me if I had waited long and I told you not to worry, "I had just arrived myself." I had come half an hour early. As we walked down the crowded streets, the bright lights shone welcomingly through the shop windows as shoppers hustled inside for last-minute gifts. Amidst the holiday chaos, the world had slowed for us. ​Red and green decorated the streets, and families were all around. I remember when the first snow fell. Your face shone brighter than all the decorative lights along the streets. Your damp curls framed your delicate features. Your rosy cheeks glowed pink in the cold and a little puff of fog appeared when you sighed. My chest swelled with pride and something more. ​I remember feeling the warmest I'd ever felt on that cold winter night, and knowing this wasn't going to be our last date. It wasn't.
***
​We held hands as we trudged through the snow, our little girl sitting on my shoulders. It was yet another wintry morning in the year 2009 and we were taking a walk in the park. She giggled with glee when I pretended to be the abominable snowman and chased her in circles. You could only shake your head and laugh. As our little girl fumbled in the snow, I glanced towards you and marvelled at how far we had come. Your features were more mature now, from the way your body curved and the confident way in which you carried yourself. I pulled you close and laid a kiss upon your head. You wrinkled your nose as I pulled away. ​"Oh no, Mummy looks kind of red; do you have a fever?" Our little girl looked up at you with her doe eyes as she stretched out her short arm in an attempt to feel your forehead, but failed. I chuckled – a hearty laugh, and marvelled at the little miracle we had managed to create, just the two of us. I wondered if she would ever cease to amaze me – she wouldn't.
***
I sat beside you as you lay in bed and told you our little girl was on her way over. It was the winter of the year 2048, and it was your third trip to the hospital. Your white hair fell wispy about your gaunt face and you looked as pale as the blanket of snow that covered the world outside – the world that could no longer belong to the both of us. You smiled a weak smile and assured me that, "We'll get through this, just like how we always have." But I knew – I knew you were lying. Your heartbeat was steady but soft when it appeared on the monitor screen, and I counted every disturbance, every jolt of the otherwise straight line that ensured that you were still alive and with me. And then you sighed and closed your eyes. But it wasn't the sigh that I had heard on our first date. It was neither cute nor satisfying. It was terrifying – because it meant that you had left me and I could not imagine a world without you. Oh, what a dull and intolerable place it would be! ​ I screamed, "Nurse!", but heard nothing. It was as if my voice had been drowned out by the single haunting beep of the cardiac monitor. I pounded on the walls but did not feel the pain. I wrapped you in my arms but did not feel you. I sobbed and shook, more than a grown man my age ever should, more than I ever had in my long life. I willed you to rise, to smile and laugh again – you didn't. I willed the pain to go away – it wouldn't.
***
Christmas day, 2049, one whole year after your passing. It was the first Christmas we'd spent apart – first in a long line to come. I hobbled up to where you now lay, six feet under, and placed my hand on your stone. A chill shot through my arm and I shuddered. Your name was engraved in the most rigid font I'd ever seen. It was ironic, in a sense, since you were such a free-spirit, but that was a long time ago. I can scarcely remember your laugh, no longer light and playful, but a dull sound in the back of my mind, diluted by the years and years which passed. The name that now rolled off my tongue sounded foreign in my ears, the person now fuzzy in my memory. The stone was smooth and cold to the touch. It reminded me of how the past year had been without you. It had been a cold and unforgiving year, and the fact that I was never going to see you again weighed down on me like your gravestone – firm and rooted, a heavy burden, a constant reminder of the long days to come. A buzzing in my pocket jolted me from my thoughts. Ah...I chuckled and instinctively turned the phone screen to face you. "Look, it’s our little girl. She's asking me to come home and refuses to start without me. What a headstrong child we've raised! She says the turkey is getting cold. It probably won't be as good as the one you used to make, but our little girl’s smart – it might come close." For a long time, I had refused to be happy, not when you could never be happy again. But it was a stupid thought to have and if you had been here, you would've made me realise my foolishness sooner. I hope you forgive me my dearest, my love. I want you to know I'm doing better, although I'm not doing fine just quite yet. I still sleep on the left side of the bed. I eat by myself at our favourite restaurant on the first day of every month, just like how we used to do. I wake up to an empty spot in the bed some mornings, expecting to feel your warmth, but I don't. I fry two eggs for breakfast because I forget you're not there to share them with me. But I'm doing better, little by little. I'm doing better, I promise. ​ I remember thinking, when it all began, that we would be together forever, but we weren't. I remember thinking, when it all ended, that the pain would never leave me, but it eventually did.