Separated Souls: Tuca and Bertie One Shot

Entry Day Dec 10 2008

It's been months since she left the world.
Today is Bertie's birthday and it all came back. All the pain, the grief, the reality that never again will I tell my cutie happy birthday again. I'll never get to see her smile or hear her laugh.

Every holiday and birthday and anniversary and every single day that goes by it doesn't get easier. It's hurting so much more.

I want this to stop. My heart hurts so much it feels like it will literally shatter.

I miss her so damn much.

I've written this hundreds of times by now, but I wish she'd told me what she was feeling. That she hadn't stayed away so much to hide her pain from me.
Sometimes I wish it wasn't common knowledge that bats can see auras. If it wasn't then maybe I could have helped her.
Maybe she'd still be here.

She was everything to me. She made me happy, made me feel as though life was worth living and a future was something we would forge together.

But that was wiped away in an instant.

I never read the autopsy report. I told Bertie's parents I don't want to know how she did it. The pain of knowing she's gone is enough without knowing that.
Maybe it would be something that gave her peaceful passing... but if she suffered I don't want to know that she died alone like that.

I couldn't go to the funeral home to see her. I just couldn't bear to see her like that.

My soul feels ripped asunder, buried in this black fog of grief.
Grief I have to shove down deep inside so I can force a smile for the sake of my little girl. She came into the world only two weeks after Bertie left it.

Bertie had been excited early on that she was going to be a mom, her parents happy to be grandparents in a sense even though Bertie and I weren't married.

Marriage was a dream for someday. Someday we'd have a home and have a nice pagan ceremony in the yard, surrounded by nature and our closest family and friends.
Bertie's dad would walk her down the path and her mom would be there for me because my own parents disowned me years ago.
Jessica was going to be the equivalent of maid of honor. Our own daughter would be our flower girl.
Bertie had even been searching for a wedding dress style she liked, black of course with pink as accent. She loved pink. It was her favorite color. My beautiful pink goth.

In her letter she'd wanted me to have her things and they're all here, in this house we bought.

Several boxes and containers I can't bring myself to go through. So many memories are in those things and if I looked at them the agony would all come rushing back.

Our daughter is asleep in my arms and lap as I write this. Bertie didn't get to meet her. I can only hope that she can know that our little Hera made it into the world.

She'll never know her mom aside from photos, stories and that one home video when I showed Bertie the car I got her. The car that's in the garage. I sometimes sit in her car when Hera is asleep and I have time to myself. The car still smells like her perfume.

I let out the pain in that garage. It's so insulated from the house I can scream and not wake Hera.

I'd do anything to bring Bertie back, but despite my powers I'm powerless to do that. I can't do the one thing that my control of magic would make right again.

I'll never forget the words in her note saying that she just couldn't handle her own thoughts anymore and she didn't want those thoughts to destroy me and our daughter. She thought that somehow removing herself from the living was going to make me happy and she was so very wrong. It's brought me nothing but misery!

How could she have come to that conclusion?! Why in the hells of the realms would she think this would be good for me?!

I have to keep up with my tears so they don't fall on Hera. It would wake her.

Hera won't ever know her mom because of her decision. What am I supposed to tell our precious baby where her mom is when she's old enough to ask? How could I possibly put this pain on her? Tell her that Bertie chose death over her family?

I wonder if Bertie even thought of what it would do to Hera or if her pain masked her deeper thoughts.

If it weren't for Hera, I'd join Bertie. But I know her soul is out there somewhere.

I've tried to talk to her, but I never received an answer or even a sign she's there. Maybe I'm not as attuned as I thought or maybe she's even ignoring me.

Maybe she feels guilt for what happened, for leaving me and Hera.

Sometimes though I swear I can hear her voice, not louder than a whisper saying she's sorry.
Sometimes it feels like she's in the room with me but it's all probably my imagination and longing.

I want to hold her, embrace her so tightly that she can forget the pain in her heart and mind.
Chase away those dark thoughts and show her videos of the stupidest things so she can laugh and not be in pain.

I want Bertie back, my Cutie Bertie... My love, my everything. My only.

I know I can never love again. I can't fathom ever being in love again.

Our souls are bound, never to be torn apart.

I will love her till the last beat of my heart and beyond.

I have a lifetime of guilt and grief to push through.

I know I have to be strong, I have to let time heal this agony.

Someday, wherever my soul goes, I will find her and once again we'll be together as we always should have been.
This time for eternity.

I bolt upright in bed drenched in a cold sweat, my heart pounding.

I had that journal dream again.
The one about losing Bertie.

I hate that dream so much, even though it makes me so much more grateful I had listened to my gut feeling that something was wrong.
If I hadn't, I would be writing in that journal in the waking world and not in a dream.

That dream happened every time Bertie and I had a petty disagreement.
Today had been about picking up dirty laundry instead of making a pile on the floor.

I looked at Bertie, sleeping so peacefully next to me.

My Bertie. My everything.

I laid next to her and wrapped my arm over her.

Just being able to have her in my arms brought my panicked heart back into a relaxed rhythm.

I loved her as she was, for all of her qualities.
And yes it was annoying at times to trip on laundry or come into the kitchen and find every inch of counter space covered in the aftermath of her baking, but those little things are part of what makes her who she is.

And if those things were gone because she wasn't living, I'd miss them desperately.

I tightened my embrace and kissed the side of her head. "I love you Bertie, forever and eternity."

I smiled when she mumbled back 'I love you too' and placed another kiss on her cheek.

She was here, alive, peaceful after a long day of baking, taxes and caring for our precious daughter.

She was perfect, so balanced and happy to be a mom.
So determined to see her dream of owning her own patisserie become a reality.

And I wouldn't have our life be any different.

This was peace, this was ideal for us.

United Souls.