David Bowie x Y/N imagines

Ground Control To Major Tom - Fem Y/N

[MAJOR TOM]

"Tom. I love you very much... I know this is a risk you're willing to take and this is an opportunity that you're not going to come across for a long time after this but I just can't help feeling as though I'm never going to see you again." These were the last words I ever said to my husband before he went off on that damn space mission. I watched every single painstaking moment of the launch and then silence fell upon the thousands of televisions across England as we got word from Ground Control that Major Tom's circuit had gone dead. I knew that was the time I would never see him again. 

Contrary to popular belief, they tried so hard to help Tom. The press made it seem as though they just let my husband blow himself into smithereens without so much as a second thought but I know, deep in my heart that they tried to help him. The hardest thing about it all wasn't watching the spaceship explode, not the TV going black, not the neighbours knocking frantically on my door but the phone call I received from the crew at Ground Control. It went as follows:

GC: Mrs Y/N? 

Y/N: Yes... I know what's happened.

GC: If I could ma'am, we have something to tell you, a message Major Tom asked us to convey to you before his circuit went dead. 

Y/N: Please do go on...

GC: "Tell my wife I love her very much, She knows."

Y/N: Thank you. I thank you and commend you all for your hard work in trying to rescue my husband and I commend your bravery to phone me at a time like this. Thank you very much.

GC: No problem at all ma'am. Goodbye, and may God's love be with you.

Y/N: Thank you, God Bless and goodbye.

Hard for me to stomach as it was, I had that bit of closure that I knew Tom wasn't coming back. There was something about Tom that day that he marched onto that spaceship that was off. He seemed so bright, bubbly and optimistic on the outside but he knew something. He was unhappy. I know the man I married and I know full well that the day he stepped foot on that ship he was unhappy. 

As much as he would like to deny this fact, he knew deep down inside that I was unhappy about it and he was too. He thought I was being paranoid, irrational but he was so wrong. He couldn't have been more wrong. I would give anything to know what the last thought to go through Tom's mind was when he came face to face with inevitable death... Was it of me, our unborn child, his parents, or his life's work? It could have been any of these things and because he's gone and never coming back, we'll never know. 

It will be a memory of old Major Tom lost in time to the general public. Not me. I would never forget my Tom. I'd always remember him as Tom. Just Tom. No Major Tom this or Astronaut Major Tom that. Just Tom. The man I married and the man I had planned to have a family with. That was all gone now. I was now just a pregnant widow, forever gazing at the stars thinking of her husband and how he died for the space endeavour that was his job. 

I would have told him that I told him so, had I ever gotten the chance. I knew that something was wrong. A wife's intuition if you will. I was prepared for the newsreels and the barrage of distraught neighbours, friends and colleagues but the one thing I couldn't have prepared for was that phone call from Ground Control. That was the straw that broke the camel's back as far as my emotions were concerned. I cried for hours, knowing that Tom meant every last word of that message and the "She knows" hit me like a boulder because I did know. I knew he loved me and I knew he wanted to raise this child, his son, but now he couldn't, now he could grow up hearing stories of his father, adorned with that sickly awe that he did something so brave and patriotic whereas I prefer to see it as the plain facts - my husband blew up.

My husband was now stardust, millions of tiny particles floating around in the everlasting void of space. He would be known as the Space Oddity. Nobody knew whatever happened to Major Tom. Nobody ever would. Only I would know the very last words of the famous Major Tom and only Ground Control and I would know the sound of his voice in those key, crucial last moments.

Fly high Major Tom. We love you and miss you every day. When I see a shooting star, I stupidly think to myself that it's you, waving at me from up there, watching your son grow up as you watch from your perch up there. I don't know who I'm kidding, maybe it's just myself but I know you can hear me.

Lots of love from your adoring family, Y/N and little Tom. 

(sorry for how sad this one is but I'm proud of it and it seemed like a brilliant idea so I do hope you enjoyed it and I couldn't think of a name for the son so I just called him little Tom... Oops)