Through the Darkness that is Life

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At this point, the chemical smell of the hospital and the unadorned walls surrounding me were too much to work through in addition to what happened to me already.
I was thankful that the sharp lump in my throat, the grotesque lump that signified endless sobbing, was gone. For now. As I lingered in the waiting room for doctors, no one consoled me. My mother sat in a chair in a corner, a sorry frown etched across her face. I would occasionally look back at her, tears still evident in my red, swollen eyes and she’d mouth ‘I’m so sorry’.
Damn it, it wasn’t her fault.
I’m sure the news circulated through the small hospital due to the groups of doctors that would wander past. They’d still be focused on their work, as every doctor would, but they’d cast me a comforting glance or nod.
Fixating on not crying more of my make-up off, I hardly noticed the doctor walk up to me and gentle touch my shoulder.
“Mrs. Lawrence.” She sighed. Her low ponytail was messy. She’d been through just about as much today as I had. In her hand, grasped in her tight, white and shaking knuckles, was a bag of Jonathan’s clothes. “I’m sure you’d like to keep these.”
His cologne wafted from the bag. Every minute of me trying to cover up my sadness ticked away. Out of my mouth and without my direct consent, came a broken sob.
I had just lost my husband. Screw trying to keep in controlled.
“Thank you.” My mother took the bag in one hand and pushed my aching head into her shoulder, letting me whimper as she accepted Jonathan’s clothes from the doctor.
Silently, they ushered me from the waiting room and out the doors. My mother passed the bag to my father, who remained wordless the entire night. Steely but composed. He attempted to hide it from my view ...

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...nk that it was already a year and a half since that day. My fiancé stood before me and grasped my hands like a delicate flower. The priest read off his typical lines while I gazed into Jonathan’s endless warm face. He felt like home. He felt like a dewy summer day in the mountains. The way his smile became crooked when he was truly at peace made me fall in love with him again every single day.
“Do you, Jonathan Taylor Lawrence take this woman as you lawfully wedded wife?” The priest’s voice penetrated my focus on Jonathan’s smile.
Without hesitation, Jonathan looked down at me, cupped my face in his hands. His perfect smile cocked to the side. Light shrouded the two of us, something I didn’t recognize from our actual wedding day. I became so warm. Jonathan traced my cheek with his thumb and in one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard, he said “I’m okay.”

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