To Meet Again...

Do you remember when we said “Until death do us part.”?

And then you said, “Even then, we will meet each other again when death has taken us both.”

I remember, I remember it very clearly. The shine of happiness in your eyes, the overbearing scent of flowers permeating the air in that small cramped church. The old wooden floor creaking beneath us as we shifted our bodies, the nerves and excitement of what we were doing not lost upon us. We were the only two in attendance that day, along with the priest who agreed to be our witness. Our families didn’t know, and weren’t too happy when they did know, saying we were too young and foolish.

When our fiftieth anniversary came around, they finally decided to keep their mouths shut. Although, the fact that most of them were dead by that point also probably was a factor.

We had our issues, you and I, a marriage full of ups and downs, just like any other. But we had agreed to face them head on, together. There was no way we would abandon each other at our time of need.

And we did a good job with that, until now.

Now as we both make our way to death’s door, I must make one final confession: I won’t be able to join you in death.

I have been cursed with immortality in the strangest of ways. I can grow old, but once I die, I am immediately reborn. As I age in my new life, the memories come flooding back, of lives long past, and sometimes they’re so vivid that they drive me to the brink of insanity. Now though, when my memories return, you will be among them, and I shall be dragged from the edge of insanity. Your face, your touch, your laugh, your very existence will remind me that love does exist, and maybe someday I will find you again.

As I look upon you now, watching you take your final breaths of air, still stubbornly clinging on to life, I have something to say to you.

I love you.

I’m sorry.

And one day, I hope we meet again.