OCTOBER 12th- "I can't sleep" she whispered, crawling into bed with me. I woke up cold, clutching the dress she was buried in."

I fingered my wedding ring, the one I still couldn’t bring myself to take off. I watched the diamond reflect light, reminding me of the light that used to shine bright in her eyes. Her brown eyes, which I would get lost in, without realizing, until her laughter brought me back. She had saved me.

I never knew I would find someone like her. I never believed I could. Before she met me I was a broken soul, full of self-hate. Coming from a religious family, I was told those like me were wrong; were abominations and would suffer for eternity. I lived my life hiding who I was, afraid of showing my difference, until one day I slipped.

The months after that were the worst of my life: Cold streets, little to eat, and nothing but self-blame. Then she found me. She was shopping and saw me painting on the sidewalk. The little pieces I would sell for a few bucks. She told me she found my work breathtaking and sad. She wanted to know how much, and when I looked up to tell her I saw those eyes of hers, and couldn’t make her pay. I told her it was a gift, and let her pick her favourite. Her name was Jaime, and she turned my life around.

She gave me a home, encouraged me to go to school and pursuit my talent and passion. We adopted a cat together, and then two more! She was a nurse, and her stories of her day became some of the biggest inspirations for my work. We were the perfect team.

Soon we were married. I’d never been happier in my life. Then she died. It was a shock to my system. It felt like everything I’d ever been told of God wanting to punish me was true, and this was the punishment.

Therapy has helped, but I still have a hard time sleeping. I miss her presence and even her cold feet. I dream about her all the time, the same dream: That she’s standing beside the bed. She’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t understand because she’s just put her mouth guard in to prevent her teeth grinding. I sit up and jokingly tell her if she has something important to say, she should stop slobbering all over herself first. She takes her mouth guard out and is about to repeat her sentence-and then I wake up. I always wake up.

I take one last look at the ring, and turn off the bedroom light. I push away the body pillow I bought to take up space, and turn onto my side.
“I can't sleep." She whispers, crawling into bed with me. I wake up cold, clutching the dress she was buried in, or at least its twin. It seemed like a brilliant idea to wear matching wedding dresses all those months ago, and now my gown is another symbol of my loss. It’s missing its match as much as I’m missing mine. My face is wet, as the realization that she’s gone hits me all over again. The dream had felt so real.

(Sometimes the prompts take you on unexpected paths. This one was a huge surprise for me.)