My partner lay on a hospital bed, old, wrinkled, and as handsome as ever.
I sat by him, weeping alone on the chair in the empty faded green room.
"We promised we would be together forever, you cannot leave me alone here." I sobbed, childlike as ever.
"Then you don't have to be alone. Come with me." He beckoned to me with open hands, his voice warm, his eyes inviting.
I started crying gentler, happier.
Slowly and frailly, I climbed onto the bed, and he tucked me to his side like always.
I lay in his arms, his face close to my own. I felt our breaths grow colder, more lifeless. A warm, gentle golden glow united us in death, as love had in our lives.
"I always wanted to be absorbed into you. Being absorbed with you is wonderful, too."
And we closed our eyes.
When I came out of that sudden moment, I realised I was on a call with him. We were on a call doing our own stuff, like always.
My eyes were overflowing with warm, salty teardrops, I couldn't stop crying.
But if I still have to try, it was hopeful, gentle, peaceful, warm and contented.
I lifted my phone to my face.
"Sunny..." I managed to speak out his name. The name I always chant to carry me when my body is trembling with anxiety.
"What is it?" He asked, warmly.
"Sunny... Sunny..." I was sobbing too persistently to be able to share that memory with him.
He usually gets frustrated when I cannot tell him something properly in one go, but he just stayed calm yesterday.
I hadn't told him anything yet, but somehow, he knew.
"Let me sob, then I will tell you" I managed.
I think he was about to say something, but he stopped himself.
He just mmhm'd and waited for me to take my time and calm down by myself.
"I suddenly saw something..." In the midst of some more sobs, pausing every few words to pull the phone away while another sob overtook me, I shared what I had seen with him.
He was quiet for a moment. Just enough for me to feel the peace in what I saw.
But not enough to let me cry any longer.
"That all is good," he replied, gently, "but why was I on the bed?"
I laughed with all my heart. It was such a ridiculous statement, too.
"You are the weaker one of us. Obviously you will be the one on bed." I told him, chortling.
"Well-" he tried to protest before being wracked by a torrent of coughs.
I don't need to prove him wrong when his body already supports me, heh.
He never spoke about it afterwards.
He probably never will, because he doesn't need to.
We are here till the other needs us.
That's all.
That's our salvation.
Reflections