You stumble past rows and rows of gravestones, beer still loosely gripped in one hand. You finally find who you’re looking for, collapsing into a heap on the freshly manicured grass. ”Hey John,” you croak out, throat dry, “I miss you.”
You take a deep, shuddering breath, gazing up at the headstone with hazy red hues. “Everyone told me that it’d get better, that the pain would stop, but they were wrong. It never leaves, no matter how many days, years, or weeks go by. It’s just that same dull ache in my chest, that never ending pang in my heart.” You’re rambling now, too drunk to filter your thoughts like you normally do.
“Near the beginning someone told me that I’d get over it with time, and a few years down the road I’ll find someone else…” You trail off, glancing down at your left hand, at the simple gold band glittering in the moonlight. “But I don’t think I could ever ask anyone else to take my name.”
“I think I’ve been coming by too much. Don’t want you getting sick of me, do we?” You let out a small chuckle, though the sound is humorless, empty. “But it seems every time I try to stay away I find myself sitting alone at the bar, almost drinking myself to death. But I never let it get that far, you’d be disappointed in me.” A few minutes of silence go by before you speak again.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. I should have been at home protecting you, not out trying to forget you. And now look where you ended up, and its all my fault.” You remember that night crystal clear, almost as if it was yesterday and not three years ago.
You and John had been fighting, over what you can’t remember, and like the coward you are you ran. You had been mindlessly walking the streets until the early hours of the morning when you got that life shattering phone call.
It had been a robbery turned homicide. Three guys had broken into your house, expecting to take your shit and run. None of them had expected to find John, and they definitely hadn’t expected him to be very skilled in close combat.
But not even John could’ve defended himself when one of them pulled out a knife.
You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel hot tears streaming down your cheeks.
“Just one stupid fight and I’m out the door, what kind of man am I? I swore to you I’d never leave your side. And even after all those years in the game I still wasn’t able to protect you. I’m so sorry, John.” Your voice has gotten quieter and quieter, now barely above a whisper.
“It’s been three years without you. Three painful, hard, lonely years. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you, think about that messy ass hair of yours, your stupid bucktoothed grin, and those beautiful baby blues.”
The sun is just peeking over the horizon now as you lay your head back on the ground, eyes falling shut.
“I love you, John.”
As you drift off to sleep you feel something gently brush your cheek, a soft whisper in your ear.
“I love you too, Dave.”