The Last Photos
If I had known these would have been the last photos I took of my husband I would have taken a thousand more, I would have filmed him instead.
Today two weeks passed since Jason died.
Two weeks that I cannot eat, cannot sleep, cannot pray.
Two weeks and I feel like I've aged twenty years. Two weeks and it seems like it was just a moment ago when I kissed him goodbye and told him once again to drive safely for the last time.
My life stopped two weeks ago... but the world, well, the world just keep spinning.
People eat and drink and shop and laugh...
Life goes on everywhere around me while I muffle the screams that rage inside of me.
My husband is dead!
Stop laughing, stop checking your phones, stop enjoying your lives!
MY HUSBAND IS DEAD!
My husband... the man I love, the father of my children, my friend, my lover, my cheerleader,
MY. HUSBAND. DEAD.
But even if I did scream out loud, life doesn't stop. So I swallow my scream and try to pray. I try harder but the words won't come.
Be strong they say. Keep your faith they say.
Life goes on and this too shall pass... at least that is what they say.
So I scream a silent scream.
And I look at the last photos I took of my husband, and I regret not having taken a thousand more. I regret not having filmed him instead.