I had told myself I wouldn’t cry at the funeral. I had been a mess for days and at this point it hurt to blink, my eyes seemingly permanently red and covered liberally in sand. The service itself had been thankfully short though Jaime had been laid to rest with all the honor of an officer killed in the line of duty. In exchange for the life of my husband, I had been presented with a folded flag encased in glass and at least thirty officers had been in attendance along with our family and friends. They paid their respects quietly, their eyes holding resignation and compassion in equal measures. I wondered if they were as unafraid of death as Jaime had been.

Despite my aversion to having people in my home, there was no other space to rent at such short notice in our small town, so I held the reception there. Groups of tens stood in circles, their chatter filling up our home with a low buzz of noise. I was at once both irritated and relieved; the place had been much too quiet these past few days but I resented the short bursts of laughter that I heard occasionally. The “are you oks?” that were tossed out like so much garbage made me feel sick to my stomach and the weak smiles I sent people’s way convinced them that I would be.

But that was a dead- lie; I had never been so sure in my life that I wouldn’t be ok. But it was a conditioned response; maybe from years of growing up and taking on the burden of aging parents while older siblings got on with their own lives and families. Or perhaps it was just societal convention; no one really wanted to listen to your complaints and hurts, they had their own issues. No one dug further because it was too much hassle to care. And so it was natural to hold it all inside. For days I had buried everything I could as deeply as possible in order to prepare for this day, the worst day of my life; the pent up emotions threatened to boil over.

The pain will ease, people whispered to me in hopeful tones. They grabbed my hand in theirs, hugged me close and told me that someday I wouldn’t hurt like I did. That I wouldn’t feel like my heart had been torn into tiny pieces, unable to be brought together again. They said so many things that everyone knew to say, those careless words that you used when ty things happened. When good people died young and those responsible for evil walked free. The day of Jaime’s passing was a blur and the horror directly after it. But I can remember the cascades of emotion too well because they stayed with me until finally I went numb. Like I had short circuited, everything in me stopped.

I wanted them all out of our house, wanted them to just get out with all their false care and greedy mouths as they devoured the food on the buffet table. Who had cared for Jaime like had, who would be dead inside without him like I was?

When I was finally blissfully alone, I laid down in our bed, my face in Jaime’s pillow. It still smelled like his cologne, the fragrance one that he’d worn for years after I’d said I liked it once in college. The memory of his smiling face floated up in my mind and even though I’d thought it impossible, tears rolled down the sides of my cheeks. I feel everything all at once; the smallest scratch of my bed sheets against my skin is enough to bruise, each car that passes by on our street sounds loud enough to deafen me. I hide under my covers because nothing feels safe anymore. I’m terrified of my own thoughts because all I can think is that there isn’t anything, anyone left for me to live for.

I don’t know how long I lay there, each hour merging into the next until days had passed. I barely moved, could barely think. Food tasted like ash in my mouth and I threw up most of it, my stomach too nauseous to keep it down. I spoke to no one, answered no calls or the loud bangs on my front door. I longed for and hated the solitude; I couldn’t stand being in the presence of people. I knew what they would think, knew what they would assume about me. But I didn’t care, my grief swallowed me whole into the darkest abyss. I couldn’t climb out of it.

I’m not happy. I’m not happy. I’m in pain. I’m in pain. The litany was endless, keeping me locked into place. The words replayed in time to the beating of my exhausted heart and how I wished that it would suddenly stop. This wasn’t how I imagined my life. This wasn’t how imagined our love would end. I’d had as close any one could come to happiness with Jaime, I had been fulfilled. But it had all been ripped away in the cruelest possible way.

Why was life so soul-crushing, why did it have to beat you into a gooey pulp? Everything was always so much harder in real life and everything always hurts so much worse. I feel like everything I’ve done before now has just been one failure after another, one bad decision that has led to twenty more. The tears don’t come like they used to. The hurt seems like it’s a part of me now and it’s too deep to just cry it away. The constant ache is maddening and it eats away at my sanity until there’s nothing left. It’s like I’m choking, suffocating on something, on my emotions until it’s too hard to breathe. I want to stop breathing.

Time passed too slowly and too quickly, it’s been three months since he died, three months since I’ve seen him in bed next to me, three months since I’ve seen his smile. And his laugh, I know I used to love it, but dammit I can’t remember what it sounds like anymore! I can’t remember the way he said my name when he was annoyed at me, I can’t think of why we playfully fought that morning he died. And the fact that I can’t remember those details horrifies me.

Every argument, every petty thing I ever said or did to him on a whim, things that I did just to get a reaction out of a man who was stoic or playful in turns. They all turned into jagged memories that cut deeply at every touch. Even the happy memories burned me like an out of control flame, rising until it took me over and left only ashes in its wake. Jaime had been my everything, we had grown into adults together. Now I was on my own and I was terrified.

 Loneliness was one thing but I was scared out of my mind to lose even a bit of him, the person who held my heart couldn’t ever be gone. I have to look at his picture every day, watch the videos we made together. I have to keep him alive for as long as possible because I never want a day to come where I don’t miss him. The ache that I feel now reminds me that he was real, that what we had was love. If I ever forget the warmth of his embrace, the shocking blue of his eyes, where will I be? Will I cease to exist too, or have I already become a memory?

And still I waited for my someday.

“Hello,” I croaked into the cellphone speaker, my voice low and rough from disuse. I coughed lightly as I pulled myself from beneath the covers of my bed. Sitting up made my head swim and I wondered vaguely how many days it had been since I’d eaten.

“Mrs. Jacobs?” The voice on the other side question, doubt permeating their tone.

“This is she,” I confirmed as my heart let out a pang of distress at the title. Was I Mrs. Jacobs anymore without my husband?

“Great, I’m so glad I was able to reach you ma’am, I’ve been trying to call for several weeks now.” The man paused as if waiting for an explanation but I gave him none. After a short silence he spoke again.

“My name is Harry Reid and I’m calling from Life Investments firm located in Denver. Your late husband had been using our company to invest in some digital assets. And ma’am I have some good news. Those investments have become very profitable.” My hazy mind swam even further from clarity; I’d had no idea Jaime had been investing in anything, had no clue what digital assets were. Did this guy have the wrong number?

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m not totally sure what you’re talking about…” I trailed off but the man continued undeterred.

“It’s alright Mrs. Jacobs, like I said this is good news! Currently the holdings you now have are worth more than eight million dollars. It’s amazing, his total initial investment was only two-thousand! It’s really unprecedented, the economy is having a massive turnaround-”

The man continued to speak but I didn’t hear anything that he said. How could I honestly be happy? The freedom that I would have been able to experience with Jaime with that kind of money, the time we would’ve had together is the only thing I can think of. Maybe he wouldn’t have stayed on the force, maybe he would have truly made woodcarving his career… maybe…maybe.

“Mrs. Jacobs,” the voice filtered in again, “we can direct deposit the money to you. We just need you to come down to our office and sign a few papers first. Does this week sound ok?”

“Yes,” I replied finally, my mouth managing to make words again.

“Fantastic, I’ll text you the address right now. You have a great day ma’am!” He hung up quickly after that and I wondered just how much of a commission the happy man had made off of Jaime’s account. The phone dropped from my lifeless hands and minutes later it pinged to announce a new message. Heartsick, I laid back down into the grooved area that had become molded to my body after constant use, the memory foam mattress no longer springing back to life.

The next day I understood just how fully my husband had been determined to make a life for us and now even in his death, Jaime was still taking care of me. When I saw the account balance I cried bitterly in Reid’s office, knowing without a doubt that if given a chance I would take my husband over any amount of money, over anything in this world. What could replace someone who knew you to the depths of your soul, who understood every bit of you and loved you despite everything? His love was irreplaceable and I was broken without it.

I was simply numb, unable to feel anything but the slow drag of time as I contemplated a life without Jaime. Richer than I had ever dreamed to be, I quit the job I hadn’t been to in months. I had been living on savings but that was no longer necessary. Still it burned that the love of my life could be worth any monetary value; I gave a portion of the money his mother and didn’t touch a cent of the rest, my now solitary bank account filled with blood money.

I was always surprised by the human mind. What it could take and what it did to remove itself from the real world. Sometimes it could erase memories to ease trauma but in other cases make the memories carved indelibly into every aspect of a person’s life until they couldn’t ever escape. And time itself was a harrowing enemy; it really did make everything better. The good and bad times had all become blurry memories of the past. Eventually, I no longer dreamed of Jaime. It cut me to the quick and yet I knew that it was for the best. My love would not return, it was best that I stop trying to sleep my life away for a chance to see him again. Explained in so few words, it may have seemed that I was able to change fairly quickly. But before I knew it, a year had passed.

“If I stay in this place any longer mama, I’ll lose it. Jaime’s everywhere in this house.” A spark of anguish hit me as I spoke his name aloud but I kept moving on, cataloguing it for later.

“At first I wanted it that way, I needed it that way but now...it’s choking me,” I bit out, just barely managing to reign in the pain that laced every word. I had sworn to myself I wouldn’t cry again today and I had to stick by it. For now it would be for an hour that I could manage not to think about him, but I dreaded that moment when it would become a full day.

“Zayne I get it, but can’t you stay closer to us? Philadelphia is so far away and your father and I aren’t getting any younger.” My mom reasoned, her voice full of sadness. I couldn’t blame her, I had just begun managing to leave the house a few months before, begin to live again.

And there it was, the crushing truth that made all of this even more unbearable. My parents weren’t young in any sense anymore, they needed myself and my siblings now more than ever. But I would have to leave that for George and Storm to handle, for once I couldn’t stay behind. It terrified me that their end might be near; the faster I put distance between us, the safer my heart would be. I planned on getting out of Colorado, leaving behind the only home I had ever known and the only people who cared for me. It was self-preservation at its finest and I wasn’t proud of it. But I knew no other way to grow beyond who I had become in the aftermath of Jaime’s death. I had almost broken again going through his things, making myself throw out his clothes, forcing myself to leave nothing but our documented memories untouched. The only thing left was the house.

“I’m sorry mama but I need the change,” I lied. And I tried my best to shut off the cries that had never stopped trying to escape from my chest.

After a long conversation where I did my utmost to prove that I wasn’t losing my mind to my parents, they finally accepted that I was sane and serious. I wandered through the empty spaces of the home Jaime and I had bought together, trying to stamp every nook and cranny into my memory. I came to the wall mirror Jaime had made me for our fourth anniversary, his wood-working skills brand new at the time. The oval shaped frame held a piece of glass that reflected back at me a woman I barely knew. My hair hadn’t been touched by a flat iron in throughout this year, and the naturally thick and curly strands had come back full force, their wild energy an accurate representation of the mess my life had become. I smoothed the mass with my hands, but I realized then that maybe it was best to leave it.

Jaime and I had been together for eight years. For eight years I chose him and he had chosen me, again and again. But suddenly I wasn’t given the choice anymore, he was simply gone. So much of my life was with him, so many life choices were made together. I realized belatedly that I had never truly lived alone; Jaime has always been there one way or another until we’d married. Now I was left with a huge house, his mountain of things and the crushing weight of the memories. I wanted to scream and cry at the injustice of it all, at the unfairness of life. Someone so bright had vanished into nothing as easily as one day became the next. I didn’t know how to be myself, I wasn’t sure if all the things I had enjoyed were because of how I had loved them because we were together. I had become my own person again but I wondered if I could really escape the deep scars left on my heart. I wondered if I really wanted to.

A/N: Hey guys, welcome back! We're here for a brand new update to this story and this definitely isnt't the end of the angst (insert evil laughter). I have no idea how long I want to make this fic, but the next chapter is already in the works and I'm feeling confident that I can express the feelings I want well. I hope you guys are enjoying it and remember to SUBSCRIBE, COMMENT and UPVOTE for more content. I pray this finds you all well and healthy in these times, and that this story gives you a bit of joy and relief from what's happening around us all. Much love, Andrea <3!