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The quote ‘life is too short’ is a mantra people say when they do the unexpected. When they need an excuse to go out of their comfort zone. It’s a quote I’ve often used willy-nilly.
Life is too short, I’m going to have another drink.
I’m gonna spend the last of my money to buy that dress; life’s too short.
Life is too short to waste it on a man who doesn’t respect you.
So many times, I said those words without truly understanding them. I made jokes and people laughed.
Now those words hit me differently.
Lifeistoo short.
None of us are promised tomorrow.
I never want to take life for granted ever again. I want to live life to its fullest. I want the good and the bad. I want the laughter and the tears. I want to be with the people I love, and cherish every moment. I want a life where I’m not worried about moving too quickly. I want love.
Ben and I have been given a second chance—if he ever forgives me for the danger I put him through.
He got out of surgery at two this morning. As soon as the nurse left with her update, I snuck out of my room and padded down to the next floor to his room.
Seeing him pale and unmoving broke me. It’s like he isn’t in there, and I’m holding the hand of an empty shell. I’ve been here for hours, praying, pleading with him to come back to me.
“Myamato, Imogen. What are you doing out of bed?”
Tears gather in my eyes at Maria’s presence. I’m the reason she almost lost a son. Her hair is no longer neatly pressed into an up-do. Her clothes have wrinkles, and she has dark circles under her eyes. She closes the door behind her.
“I needed to see him,” I croak, my throat hoarse from all the crying.
She drops a bag on the floor at the end of the bed and comes to sit in the chair next to me. “I understand. I was tossing and turning all night before I finally gave in and came back. The kids are still sleeping.”
“What time is it?” I croak out.
“Six thirty,” she admits. “The nurse gave me a pity pass and let me through.” She places her trembling hand on his shin, bowing her head. “I don’t think my heart will ever recover.”
“I’m so sorry,” I choke out. I try to hold back the tears. I try to keep it together. But her heartbreak is more than I can take. “I’m so sorry he’s here.”
She runs her hand over my head and down my hair affectionately. “My love, this isn’t your fault.”
“But it is. I’m the reason Zach was so angry. I broke up with him, and looking back, I should have done it differently.”
“The heart wants what the heart wants, dear. Women have been breaking up with men for millennia. How they react is out of your control.”
“It’s still my fault Ben is here,” I whisper. “He would never have been at risk if he wasn’t with me.”
“My love, he would do anything for you,” she reveals softly. She doesn’t speak for a moment, and I begin to think she has nothing more to say, but then she continues. “I blamed myself for my husband’s death.”
The tears sting my cuts, and wiping them away does nothing to ease the pain. I didn’t even think I could cry anymore. But having her comfort me has opened the floodgates back up. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve anyone’s comfort or kind words. “You did? But it wasn’t your fault.”
She arches an eyebrow, as if hoping for that reply. “Yet people with huge hearts take the blame anyway. It’s how we are wired. It took me awhile to stop blaming myself. He would never have fought if I wasn’t there. He would have given them what they wanted.”
“He had something to fight for,” I surmise, seeing where she is going. Ben had someone to fight for too.
Me.
“Yes. But that wasn’t the only reason I blamed myself. I was the person who fired the dish collector. He only came back to get what he thought was owed to him. If I hadn’t done that, we would never have been robbed.”
“Ben didn’t tell me that part,” I whisper.
