Jesse

37: Resolutions

Jesse McLeod

………

            Did I ever think it would end like this? The answer was simple.

            No.

            I never thought it would end this way. This kind of death. But who would of?

            As much as I denied it, I knew. Somewhere in the darkest part of my mind, somewhere on the edge, lurking on the dark horizon I faced everyday—I knew. The end wouldn't be happy. Not the kind of happy I wanted. Not the kind of happy anybody would want. But sometimes, life is out of your hands. You have no choice. You must endure. You must face the unknown, eventually. I didn't know it would be this soon, though.

            That part made me mad. It was the part that made me cry more than anything. That I wouldn't see Ian anymore. I wouldn't see his parents. Not Joann. Not Tom Boy. Not Emily. Not anyone, again. I hated this. I hated it had to end this way. I wanted more than anything to be able to have spent my life with Ian; to wake up to his face every morning; to feel the protectiveness, the security all in the comfort of his arms; to just hear his laugh again, see his unforgettable smile.

            I wanted to live.

            But something more than me, didn't. It was my time. And somewhere between the dark, heavy straight lines—the horizons—I realized, it would be okay. I would be okay. The sun still broke through the black clouds. I wouldn't leave Ian alone; there were still memories. Although, bittersweet. But they were still there. Something that might fade with time: but they would endure, as I had; they would remind him of all the good times we had together. Our kisses. Our love. Our time together. And that no one could take from him. So. I hadn't died in vain.

            J. was no more. I had shot him. Even if I had lived, I might have been put in jail, just because of that. Who was to know. I had to remember, everything happened for a reason. Like Mom would always say: sometimes we may not know the reason right now, but in time we begin to understand; we begin to see, we feel, and we remember. In time, when all of the anger, all of the pain, all of the emptiness begins to wash away, we find peace. Something to cling to. Something to remind us we're not alone, that the world we live in isn't so dark after—that healing can be done.

            Life isn't fair. Life is never fair. So, I told myself, why expect the end to be fair?

            We all want to live.

            But none of us want to die.

            It was the natural course of things. We are born. We live our lives. Maybe even find love along the way. Then, we must give in, and die—so someone else can live. So someone else can go on and can live theirs.

            What scared me the most, beyond leaving Ian and all the ones I cared about—was the unknown. The fear of the unknown.

            I didn't want to face it. I didn't want to die. I was too young. It wasn't my time. I still had so many years ahead of me. My life, ahead of me. This wasn't—this couldn't be the time.

            But no, it was. It—is—my time.

            I feel the grip of my hand around Ian slacken as my heavy eyes close, I know for the last time. Here, in this life. Where I will go, I do not know. I wasn't much for religion. I'm scared. Suddenly, the darkness takes me, and I feel myself gasping for air, but nothing comes. Then in that moment I see everything.