Page 149 of What Should Have Been Ours

He was always warm.

I swallow, my breath shuddering as I close my eyes. “Goodbye, my love,” I whisper.

And then I can’t help but break out loud. My body curls over the casket, sobs tearing through me, shaking me so much that I can barely hold myself up.

This pain is unbearable, and searing, like someone has reached inside of me and ripped something vital away.

Something I needed to keep living.

My heart, obviously.

I clutch at the casket, my tears soaking into the polished wood. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head, my fingers gripping onto it. Even when I know it’s time, I can’t make myself let go. “I’m not ready for you to really leave me.”

Wes moves to me, kneeling beside me, his hand on my back as his voice comes out gentle. “Gab…”

I shake my head, refusing. “I can’t—I can’t leave him here.”

Kinsley is next. She crouches beside me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

“I can’t do this,” I choke out.

Kinsley presses her forehead against mine as her own tears fall. “You just have to keep trying, Gab. You know that’s all he wants from you.”

I don’t know how long I stay there, curled against the casket, unwilling to move.

Then, one by one, people step forward. His mom. His dad. My mom. They place roses over the casket. Say their final goodbyes. Wes and Kinsley get up and do the same.

I stay until the last possible moment.

Until they tell me it’s time.

Until there is no choice but to stand.

Wes and Kinsley help me up, guiding me back a few steps. My legs feel like they don’t belong to me.

And then the casket begins to lower fully into the ground. With every inch it sinks, it takes more pieces of me away to be buried with him.

And then it’s gone.

He’s gone.

The earth swallows him whole, and all that’s left is the dirt beneath my feet, the flowers resting over fresh soil, and the unbearable silence of a world without him.

As people begin to leave, I stay, my feet rooted to the ground.

Kinsley and Wes stay with me, standing in quiet solidarity as I kneel one last time, pressing my palm to the fresh dirt.

“Wait for me,” I whisper.

And I swear I can feel him.

A sudden warmth. A peaceful presence. His love that refuses to fade.

For a moment, my grief and peace intertwine, wrapping around each other, neither one stronger than the other.

Because love like this doesn’t die.

Not even when the person does.