For the longest time I had wracked my brains for the meaning of what she said to me. It was a simple phrase that stood out in my mind through every turn of the corner in my life, every climb of the hill of difficult times, every tear I cried . Her voice would ring in my head like the bell at the clock tower. "Not long now."
Did that answer everything? All my trials and tribulations... had that sentence provided me with a solution to all my questions and problems? Not long now... Everything that happened to me up to this point seems like a mere dot on the horizon. It's true, after time has lapsed a whole year seems like a month when compared to five years. Two decades was hardly as long as it should be. It seems like just yesterday I was in grade six confessing my young love to that girl. She rejected me, of course, because she told me she was too young; too unexperienced.
"How long then?"
"Not long."
That was her answer every time. Homecoming came and I asked her to be my date; she rejected me again. Too young, too inexperienced.
"How long then?"
"Not long."
Graduation came. The last time I could ask her before anything else became too serious otherwise. Surely she would know this and accept my request? No, how foolish of me to get my hopes up. She shook her head with quiet disdain and replied. "Not long now..." was her response to my frustrated question. "How long will you make me wait?!"
Graduation came and went and with it came much travail. College was a life all on its own. I forgot everything that happened to me before; all that I had learned in those cramped school rooms with thirteen people at most in a desk and the teacher scribbling across the blackboard with their multi-coloured chalk.
Maybe what I learned back then wasn't as important as what I'd learn in college life? It never stuck with me or was taught again, but with a different method. Those small classrooms gave no room for the mind to wander, let alone the body, yet I could feel myself pull closer to her throughout each hour of those days. My mind was always on her. I would look at the blackboard but never see it. That was how I looked at life. I would look at it, but never see life. Only when I would briefly glance at her would I see anything. I was convinced that it was love.
Only three things stayed with me throughout my childhood. My affections for that girl, what she said to me constantly, and what my mother told me was love.
"Love, my son," she said to me while sitting me on her lap and placing a bandage over my left chest with her gentle and ever-loving fingers. It was her fix for everything. Cuts, scrapes, burns, and broken hearts. "Is when one person cannot think straight. When he or she would run up and down the streets of their small town and find everyone walking and grasp them firmly by the arms and stare them into the eyes and tell them with a quiet excitement. 'I am in love'.
"Love is when you face death with some one and you're not afraid because you know that you can die in peace as long as you are holding that person. Love is giving up your life for that person and never having a single regret for it, because you know that your life is meaningless compared to his or her life, and you would do anything to let him or her live."
Such wiser words have never been spoken and I tried all my life to search in my heart if that was how I felt towards this girl--this beautiful, perfect woman. I did everything I could. I fought off bullies for her, I paid for her food on days when she left her purse in her locker, I gave her rides to school when the wind blew and the rain fell, I helped her with chores around her house and did all the heavy labour as she accomplished her small tasks. Maybe I was never good enough for her and she only had me around for the work and money?
When I turned 24, I met her again. I was graduating from college and she was in a coffee shop just around the corner from the convocation hall. I asked her to join and she said yes. Snidely I remarked. "This is the first time you said yes to me." To that, she simply smiled and patted my hand then followed me to the hall.
After the graduation I sought her out again and asked if she would join me for a bite to eat and to catch up. Again she said yes. I took her to the nearest restaurant that was not too extravagent and not too homely. The locally-owned restaurant served all sorts of food there with good prices and a pleasant atmosphere to enjoy it with. It was there that she finally agreed to go on another date with me.
Dates came, each one more exciting and thrilling than the last. The first time she kissed me--or rather, allowed me to kiss her--was after a night of learning to waltz at an old studio with many old couples. They cooed at her beauty and scolded me saying they'd find me if I hurt the girl. The old couples were a fresh change from the groups we had hung out with. The elderly had an air about them that was relaxing and classically romantic while the youth had a lustful, passionate atmosphere that seemed to choke us as we stood around awkwardly. Perhaps that was the type of atmosphere she enjoyed; an atmosphere that was calming and blocked out the public pressures of foolish acts.
The day she said "Yes!" was when we were on a boat ride beside a waterfall in the mountains. The spray of fresh water cooled my cheeks as they burned frantically out of fear and anticipation of her expected "no". Her voice rang over the sound of the waterfall's roar and resonated within my heart sending an uncontrollable shake throughout my body. My knee was bent at a perfect 90 degree angle and my whole body was wet and chilled from having given her my poncho since she had brought one a size too small. The ring, plain yet beautiful, fit perfectly around her slender, soft finger and her lips were the spark to light the fire inside my heart and warm my body. My shivering ceased instantly and never again had I felt that warm.
We married in a quaint field where the ocean could be heard at a distance lapping against the cliff side, applauding our bond of marriage. Not too far was a cabin that was given to us by my grandparents. It was a single room cabin with one room for the bathroom. The bed was softer than any other mattress I had ever laid on. I believed it was because she was there.
Years passed. I was the bread-winner of the house and she was the house-maker. Never had I imagined we could live so comfortably. We never wanted, we never went without, we couldn't be happier. At the age of 46, however, we discovered something horrible.
A disease had settled inside me. It was secluded mainly to my heart since it was found early enough, but not so much that it could be cured. Slowly it would cause my heart to harden and it would lose the ability to beat. The only cure for this would be to find a person willing to donate their heart; the person had to be alive.
Essentially, to cure me and save my life would be to ask some one to lay down theirs. The hopelessness of the situation left me with severe depression and a hallow being... or it would have.
My wife was with me always and with her I forgot my condition. We couldn't do everything that we used to, but we managed to get by with the less physical things. We went back to that old studio where we waltzed again. It was there that I recalled what my mother said to me and I relayed it to her. "Once, when you had told me no in grade six, my mom said to me that love was knowing that you could die in peace because you're with the one you love." She smiled and placed her head on my chest to hear my heart struggle to beat as we moved slowly and smoothly across the floor.
"What are you thinking about, my love?" I asked her while slowing the pace. To which she responded. "Just... thinking."
She had never held a secret from me and always shared her thoughts. "Will you tell me?"
"Maybe."
"When?"
"Not long now..."
A week later I was ridden to the hospital bed. My heart couldn't beat on its own. It wasn't painful, but uncomfortable. She sat by my bed, stroking my hand softly and watching me with her infinitely sad eyes. Then she said.
"Do you remember when we were waltzing?" I simply nodded. "That night, I called the doctor and had some tests run on my blood... my blood matches yours. I want you to have my heart."
I could see the tears run down her face, but a smile was on her lips. She breathed jaggedly as she held back the sobs. My teeth clenched and tears formed in my eyes as well. I gripped her hand as tight as I could and shook my head slightly. She said. "It's what people in love do... they lay down their own life because they know... they know that theirs is not as important as the others."
We were both in the surgery room. Before the drugs worked into my system forcing me to sleep, my hand held hers and our eyes met. I said to her as loud as I could. "I love you..." and she responded. "I love you... it won't be long now..."
After the surgery, I never felt alone. Inside my chest beat her heart. Through me, my wife lived every single day. I made sure there wasn't a moment that my heart beat that I was not doing anything in her memory. I rebuilt that studio with my own money and the crowds gathered. I donated books to schools and helped the most recent technology reach the school she and I went to so the small classrooms had a big lesson each day and every student got the chance to learn as much as they could.
Now, after everything is done, I sit on my chair in my house. I'm too old to work and too old to take care of myself. I stare at the pictures of us together and of her and say softly to myself, just as she had always said to me those many, many times. "It won't be long now..."
Normal User
Normal User
Normal User
Normal User
Normal User
Normal User
