They let me see her one last time. She lay there, like she was sleeping, peacefully. I regretted the DNR* we signed together some years ago. And now, right before our 6th wedding anniversary, she had to be here. Gone. And me, alone. In her hand, a light blue envelope with my name on it.
I reached for the envelope, opened to find a letter.
I guess God figured I had loved you long enough, that’s why He allowed death to separate us.
Don’t mourn too long, my love. Live. I will come back to you in the next life time and I promise, I will try to outlive you then. And if reincarnation doesn’t unite us again, look to the horizon. I promise to come back as an aurora. And you can try and count my colors.
I buried my head in her lifeless hand and cried for what felt like hours. I couldn’t go home. My home had just left me.
DNR: Do Not Resuscitate