Red Roses for her

I creak out of the car and get the flowers out of the back seat. The cold makes me move like an old man, but only little kids call me old. I shudder up the path, past other people's memories. There must be miles of stories behind each person here, but only a few people know each one. Finally I arrive at my memory. I lay down my blood red roses, and let the memories flood.

It’s my fault she’s dead. She was perfect. I don’t just mean beautiful, and I don’t mean she was faultless, but she was perfect. I held her and loved her- and left her. I didn’t realize by moving on I was leaving happiness behind. We Americans always think there’s something better, or newer or more exciting around the corner. Well this time I was wrong- so wrong. I thought it would be as easy for her to let go as it was for me. I’ve never made a bigger mistake.

She loved me more than life itself, I guess. There are a lot of things she taught me, a lot of things I never knew. I never knew love could destroy. I never knew I loved her until it was too late. I never knew regret until that day. And now I know I will never know light.

I’ve been bringing her roses every year on her birthday since I first met her, always a dozen red ones. The only year I ever missed was the year she died; the year I failed in life, the year my heart stopped all functions besides beating. I wish it had stopped that too. But it didn’t- I’m still here. I still have to remember.

We got married right out of college. We both thought we’d be happy forever, but I couldn’t get a job. She worked while I stayed home, looking in the classifieds for job offers. I was either under or way over qualified for everything. Her parents always had thought I was good for nothing. It turns out they were right, although I don’t think knowing they were right makes them feel any better.

We never had kids; I didn’t want any. I don’t even know if she did or not. They could have comforted her, or persuaded me to stay. But I was slowly sinking into the depths of depression and I don’t think they would have been able to stop me. She was always cheerful, always positive. She was the sun to me, but I tired of light. I wanted to be in utter darkness. So I left. I didn’t know that without someone to shine for, the sun would die.

And that’s how it happened. The sun just stopped. The world froze in its orbit. Everything is now cold and lifeless. The only color left is red, blood red. The roses.