Affection | Jenlisa

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Life ends when it ends. It's one of the few things you can't control. Sometimes the only thing you can control, is how you die. When you're sick, and you choose not to fight anymore. When you jump in front of a train, or take a handful of pills because you simply don't want to live anymore.

My wife killed herself.

But I choose to see her as one of the few people that get to decided how they die.

She'd been through hell and back, twice.

Abusive parents, who did nothing but hurt her physically and mentally.

A miscarriage. She was carrying our child but it was born dead. She blamed herself for not being able to take care of it. I kept telling her it wasn't her fault, that those things happen sometimes, and that I still love her as much as before the miscarriage. She believed part of it, but never stopped blaming herself.

She was completely broken, and it was so hard to fix her. I tried, I really did, but it didn't work.

Months before she died, I took her to see a therapist. I cam with her, because that was what she wanted. She didn't trust anyone if I wasn't there, so I came. She seemed normal. She seemed like every woman that had just lost her child, sad. Then one day, I couldn't come. After her meeting, I got a call from her therapist saying she went insane. She flipped tables, threatened to hurt herself, and cried uncontrollably. But as soon as she mentioned me, she calmed down. When she got home, she immediately found my warm embrace. She kept going on about how good the session was, and how good she felt. She never knew I heard about what actually happened.

Before she took her own life, we had a conversation about everything in our lives. I should've seen it coming then, but I was too blind.

-

“I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up," Jennie said. I shook my head.

"Stop it," I said.

She buried her face in her hands. "I can't do anything right! I could die right now and still struggle because I wouldn't do it right," she said.

"What are you talking about? You don't do everything wrong. What makes you think that?" Tears rolled down her face.

"I couldn't even carry our child.." I shook my head.

"You know that's nowhere near your fault."

"It is. I should've just stayed at home and taken care of myself better. Taken care of the baby better," she said. I cupped her face.

"You're being stupid now. You're not supposed to stay at home all day when you're pregnant. It just went wrong, and there's nothing you could've done to change that," I said.

"Do you hate me for it?" She asked after a while. I looked at her and frowned.

"Not even one bit."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"For everything. First, I lose our child. Then I became a complete mess and let you deal with it. And now it's happening all over again. I'm done hurting you. You don't deserve this." she said. I shook my head.

"You have to listen, and listen very carefully. I love you, so much. And nothing will ever change that. Not losing our child, not you having a bad couple of weeks, nothing. I will always love you, no matter what. You have to understand that." I said. She nodded as I pulled her in for a hug.

"I love you too," she said. "So much, so much. I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you. I will always be grateful for you. Please, don't ever forget that?" She said. I nodded. "I'll love you forever." She added. She pulled away and softly pressed her lips on mine, like it was our last kiss.

-

The next day, I found her lifeless body in the bathtub. She surrounded herself with pictures of me, us together and an ultrasound of our child, before slitting her own wrists.

The words she said the night before, I should've known. I should've realised she was saying goodbye to me.

I remember falling down to my knees, and scream. I screamed so loud, not wanting to accept the fact she was gone. I didn't cry about the fact I had lost her, because I lost her months ago. She hadn't been herself since the miscarriage last year and we both knew it. But never did I thought she was capable of hurting herself like this.

I found a letter on her pillow, with my name on it.

“Dear Lisa,

Do you remember our conversation yesterday? I want you to remember it, every day. Because I love you so, so much. I just couldn't live with myself anymore. I hope you don't hate me now.. please don't..

I want you to be whoever you've always wanted to be, but never could because of me. I want you to be the happiest you can be, no matter how you do it or what you have to do for it. I won't hate you for moving on. I'm encouraging you to. I'll be watching you, and make sure nothing happens to you.

This is what's best for me. I'm sorry.

I'll love you forever and ever and as long as it's humanly possible to love someone so much.

- Jennie”

It's been 8 months since she died. I still miss her every single day. I miss her smile, I miss her jokes, I miss her sweet words and I miss her touch. She was everything to me and more.

Sometimes the most unexpected things happen, but you refused to believe it.

Life isn't life when things aren't fair. Love isn't love when you're not there. A heart is a painful thing to share.