As the decades pass, I still recall the wonderful memories I shared with
my wife. As a matter of fact, I still smell her scent and feel her
sense of life in this very room where we shared our love. And yes,
dammit, I still call her my wife. I loved her as much as one being can
love another! I'm sixty-nine years old; she died when I was thirty-four.
As it stands, I still remember the painful night my lover left me. . .
It was a night filled with peculiarities; my sister gave birth prematurely, my car- which had never failed me- wasn't igniting, and on top of this, my wife was nagging me.
"Honey," she said, "go see your sister. You're family. You have to go." I didn't want to because it was a 4-hour drive, and my car wasn't even starting!
"Look," I said, "the car isn't working right now. Besides, it's late." It was 7:32 p.m., and I had work the next day. She looked at me with anger. "And why do you want me to go alone?" I inquired. "Why don't you want to come with?"
"Because she's your sister and, besides, I have to clean the entire house!"
I gave in. I'd rather go on the 4-hour trip than argue, I thought. But now that I think about it, I'd rather argue with my baby; at least I'd be able to hear her sweet voice and see her precious face.
I got the car working; it just needed some power, which I got from a neighbor.
The 4-hour drive turned out to be a 2-hour drive. The streets were rather empty and hasteness was inevitable.
I got to the hospital and saw my sister and her newly-born. She looked pale and sick; the new-born was crying. I didn't want to stay for long; I missed my wife already, despite the arguing. I couldn't wait to return home.
Finally, at 10p.m., I departed from the hospital. This time the drive took only 1 hour because there was absolutely no cars out at all. (We lived out at a ranch)
I turned into our street and cruised down my block. I saw a car parked in my drive-way. It didn't seem familiar and I didn't know what to do. I parked my car on the sidewalk and got off to inspect the unknown car. I still had no idea who it belonged to.
This was confusing because it was 11p.m. and there was a car I'd never seen before in my drive-way. I walked to the front door and unlocked it quietly. I walked inside. There was a strange sound coming from my wife and mine's bedroom.
"Celine," I called. I kept walking toward the bedroom as the noise grew clearer: still, I couldn't make out what it was.
I was at the foot of our door and heard a man moaning excitedly; then I heard my wife moan very softly. Unbelievably infuriated, I kicked the door open and saw a sight I will never, ever forget.
The man was on top of my wife, my baby, my life! And she had her arms wrapped around him with such softness it completely devastated me. I felt oozy, crushed; my heart fell all the way to hell, yet I still managed to yell, "What the **** are you doing, Celine!" I felt tears running quickly down my face.
She looked at me, remained quiet, and solely stared. The man was half off of her. Instinctively, I ran to her and threw him off. As I threw him off, I saw another sight that will forever remain in my head. The man, the coward, the monster, had slit my wife's throat! He was raping her corpse!
"You coward!" I shrieked at him. "I'll kill you! Why did you do this! My wife, you took my wife! Damn you!" I felt fatigue. I lost my logical sense and everything in my mind disappeared; I mentally lost everything at that moment.
The man ran out as I sat next to my wife's corpse crying out to God, asking why He (God) let this happen. I cried uncontrollably as I hugged her; her blood was all over me, but I didn't care. I just wanted to feel close to her, no matter the circumstances. I heard the man's car rev and leave, but I didn't think about running after him, nor revenge: I just wanted my baby, my wife back. God, I love her so much. I arranged for her to be buried next to my mother, and I will be next to her. I visit her grave every single day. I have never went one day without visiting her, my baby, my life, my soul, my wife.
I'm left with several questions: Did she invite him over? If so, was it an affair? If not, did he simply pick a random house to break into and rape someone? If he picked a random house, he will never know the pain he put me through. No one will. I cried myself to sleep everyday for over 2 decades and even as I'm writing this sentence my tears are falling onto the floor but I don't care. All I wonder is: Why, baby, why? Why did you want me to see my sister alone? We both could have gone and you would have been here next to me physically right now, instead of just in my head.
How I wish you were here...
It was a night filled with peculiarities; my sister gave birth prematurely, my car- which had never failed me- wasn't igniting, and on top of this, my wife was nagging me.
"Honey," she said, "go see your sister. You're family. You have to go." I didn't want to because it was a 4-hour drive, and my car wasn't even starting!
"Look," I said, "the car isn't working right now. Besides, it's late." It was 7:32 p.m., and I had work the next day. She looked at me with anger. "And why do you want me to go alone?" I inquired. "Why don't you want to come with?"
"Because she's your sister and, besides, I have to clean the entire house!"
I gave in. I'd rather go on the 4-hour trip than argue, I thought. But now that I think about it, I'd rather argue with my baby; at least I'd be able to hear her sweet voice and see her precious face.
I got the car working; it just needed some power, which I got from a neighbor.
The 4-hour drive turned out to be a 2-hour drive. The streets were rather empty and hasteness was inevitable.
I got to the hospital and saw my sister and her newly-born. She looked pale and sick; the new-born was crying. I didn't want to stay for long; I missed my wife already, despite the arguing. I couldn't wait to return home.
Finally, at 10p.m., I departed from the hospital. This time the drive took only 1 hour because there was absolutely no cars out at all. (We lived out at a ranch)
I turned into our street and cruised down my block. I saw a car parked in my drive-way. It didn't seem familiar and I didn't know what to do. I parked my car on the sidewalk and got off to inspect the unknown car. I still had no idea who it belonged to.
This was confusing because it was 11p.m. and there was a car I'd never seen before in my drive-way. I walked to the front door and unlocked it quietly. I walked inside. There was a strange sound coming from my wife and mine's bedroom.
"Celine," I called. I kept walking toward the bedroom as the noise grew clearer: still, I couldn't make out what it was.
I was at the foot of our door and heard a man moaning excitedly; then I heard my wife moan very softly. Unbelievably infuriated, I kicked the door open and saw a sight I will never, ever forget.
The man was on top of my wife, my baby, my life! And she had her arms wrapped around him with such softness it completely devastated me. I felt oozy, crushed; my heart fell all the way to hell, yet I still managed to yell, "What the **** are you doing, Celine!" I felt tears running quickly down my face.
She looked at me, remained quiet, and solely stared. The man was half off of her. Instinctively, I ran to her and threw him off. As I threw him off, I saw another sight that will forever remain in my head. The man, the coward, the monster, had slit my wife's throat! He was raping her corpse!
"You coward!" I shrieked at him. "I'll kill you! Why did you do this! My wife, you took my wife! Damn you!" I felt fatigue. I lost my logical sense and everything in my mind disappeared; I mentally lost everything at that moment.
The man ran out as I sat next to my wife's corpse crying out to God, asking why He (God) let this happen. I cried uncontrollably as I hugged her; her blood was all over me, but I didn't care. I just wanted to feel close to her, no matter the circumstances. I heard the man's car rev and leave, but I didn't think about running after him, nor revenge: I just wanted my baby, my wife back. God, I love her so much. I arranged for her to be buried next to my mother, and I will be next to her. I visit her grave every single day. I have never went one day without visiting her, my baby, my life, my soul, my wife.
I'm left with several questions: Did she invite him over? If so, was it an affair? If not, did he simply pick a random house to break into and rape someone? If he picked a random house, he will never know the pain he put me through. No one will. I cried myself to sleep everyday for over 2 decades and even as I'm writing this sentence my tears are falling onto the floor but I don't care. All I wonder is: Why, baby, why? Why did you want me to see my sister alone? We both could have gone and you would have been here next to me physically right now, instead of just in my head.
How I wish you were here...
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