The Death Of A Loved One

I became depressed when my husband of twenty-five years developed brain cancer. I was there for every treatment, every chemotherapy. I was even the one who shaved his hair when he had to undergo surgery. I found it really hard to accept our new fate and kept praying for a miracle. Finally, we were given a verdict: he had a few months to live. I struggled to function. Aside from being unable to handle the problems associated with aiding my husband since he couldn't move about, I couldn't really express myself. I had so much bottled up. So much anger, so much pain. When he finally passed away, I didn't know what to do. I didn't get to tell him how much I loved him. So, I started writing him a letter every day. In the letter, I tell him how my day went, the things that happened without missing anything. It was what we did when he was alive. We stayed up late at night talking about our days. I couldn't let go of that ritual, so I did it. When I was done writing it, I read it aloud and burned it in our backyard,hoping the smoke would carry my words to him. This helped me heal. I no longer find myself breaking into tears whenever I see what was once his. I know he is watching over me, and when the time is right, we will reunite, never to part again.

Fatima

Malaysia