Tidal Push

February, Valentines Day 2007. We celebrated the way lovers do. We had hope and such a bright future planned. Our time felt fluid and the perfection was without mention...

Two days later it was as if someone had cut the cord; our lifeline snapped and everything changed, shifted forever. Lung cancer, stage 4... 

We now had a new plan and new future - time did not stand still; time was no longer fluid, we now had a defined time limit. 

Everyday we would drive to the hospital. The same route; same twists and turns in the road. The changing seasons; a white winter snow, new growth and the warmth of spring, hot summer sun...and the mysterious golden glow of fall. 

We would talk, if you felt up to it; keeping things light and hopeful...only a few more rounds of Chemo left, then we can look for that house on the water... back to our plans, back to our plans - wishful thinking...naive, yet hopeful. 

I would look over at you, sitting in the passengers seat of our Mini Cooper, pale and thin; the pain in my heart was deep - beyond expression. You would smile at me and take my hand to your lips and kiss my fingers; thanking me for being with you and not letting go...we had always promised we would never let go...

One fall night, our last ride on that road, same twists and turns - this time you rode in the back, I was up front in the passengers seat; sirens blaring - the tide rushed up and took you away, I wasn't ready then...I'm not ready now.

Over the years as I drove around town, I would look over to the passengers seat, I could feel your presence. I found comfort knowing you were still with me, your spirit hadn't left and selfishly, not wanting to let go, I held on. I held on and on, white knuckling it at times; fearful of the day when I would get in the car and you would be gone.

February, Valentines Day 2016. The tide came up without warning, water rushed in and took you away again - I wasn't ready then, and I'm not ready now...  but time does not stand still for anyone and our life plans did change; eight years have passed. 

The tidal push left me in the wake of loss and letting go - my choices now, like then are limited. Not life or death, but a change. Change is a necessity, moving forward is a life line to taking a deep breath in and a slow breath out.  A new Mini Cooper, a new future... and if I look over to the passenger seat, I'm hopeful that I will feel you there once more...

© 2016 TrilbyYates