For Every Missing Shade

Short Story 3: When the Light Turns Cold

I used to live in a particular shade of darkness. The exact depth of it escapes me but I just know it was there. Call it black and white, call it boring, call it stereotypical, call it whatever you want.

It sucked.

It was terrible, but I never quite knew how dark it was until I met Emma. Like the morning sun, she brought light into my life. She brought my world out of the dark and I loved her for it.

I remember the first time any sort of light entered my life. It came with my grandma. She was my dad's mother and she was beautiful in every stretch of the word. She showed me how to love, how to be happy, and how to live life like it should be lived. Whenever she walked into a room, it lit up. She had this inspiring habit of making every person in the room feel like the only person who mattered.

She made me feel like that and I loved her for it. She raised my self-esteem, pushed me to be myself, and supported me in every major decision I made.

She was loved because she knew what loving someone meant. It didn't matter what love you reciprocated back, it only mattered how much love she could give. She put anyone and everyone before herself.

She put me first when I was born all the way until she died. She made me feel special when I was at my highest peaks and my deepest valleys. She put my needs before her own no matter how tired she was, how much she had going on, or how bad her lung cancer got.

It started slow, the cancer did. It began as a small scare so we took all of the necessary precautions. We gave her the best doctors, put her in the most comfortable situations possible, and left the rest to fate.

Eventually, her light started to fade. Like everything else, it was slow so it was hard to notice. She fought harder the worse it got and I tried to fight too. I visited her, gave her company, kept her happy, and got her mind off of things. It was three years from start to finish, but it took me even longer to realize that it wasn't me who was helping her.

It was completely, utterly, and unequivocally the opposite.

Whether she knew it or not, she was helping me live after her light finally went out. She taught me how to function in the dark and how to find a light on my own.

I'm not saying that my world fell completely dark after her death, but it was more like a clear night than a sunny day. I could find the pretty parts, and each new piece I found was another glimmer of light that made the whole sky a little more beautiful to look at.

And now, for the best and worst reasons, I am reminded of her. Her life. Her death.

It's odd to think that it's late December and I met Emma in early September.

In just under four months, she took my world and turned it around. In the best way possible, she rotated my world back towards sunny skies. Of course, the stars are still there, but there is no need to see them when the sun is out. She brightens up the world more than any constellation or nebula ever could.

It's bliss.

I know that she's not gone yet and that miracles happen every day, but I can't help but try to find a reason why my life has abruptly changed from dancing in daylight to watching a sunset. It's in my nature to find something or someone to live for. Oftentimes, though, if you live for someone else, their absence takes your life with them.

I'm afraid to do anything that might signal that time still passes by. All that time can do for me now is take me to a point where she's taken from me.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think besides thinking of her. I don't know how to fill my time without using her to fill it. I don't know what to do other than be with her. I don't know how to operate, how to live, or how to do anything. She filled every crack in my life and now I have to find out how to stay put-together when she's gone.

She is the light. She is the sun shining down on me. The most terrifying thing I've ever learned is that my sun is about to set. It's going down, and I know I can't stop it. Try as I might, I am helpless to watch the shadows grow longer as the light turns cold.

All I can do is the same thing I did with my grandma. Hold her hand as it happens, squeezing tight to every moment in my mind in hopes of it keeping me warm when her light no longer can.