From The View of A Nerd

Gone

I sat on my bed, getting in the fetal position. He was gone. I will never see his perfectly crooked smile or his beautiful eyes again. I will never be able to feel his firm yet soft arms around me or cuddle with him when I've had a bad day. It all happened so quickly.

I came home from a stressful day at work, calling for him when I got inside.

“Babe! Hello?”

No answer. I walked all over the house, checking every room. I was starting to get worried. He said he would be home. I approached the bedroom door. I didn't want to know what happened in there. He's been having a tough time, who knows what could have happened. I opened the door.

The room was empty. I looked around. There was note on the nicely folded sheets. It had my name printed in his handwriting. I picked it up and became short of breath. I didn't want to know what it said.

Paloma,

It was his handwriting.

I know you love me now for who I truly am and not for who I’ve become. Never forget that I loved, love, and will always love you no matter where I am. Never give up. I know I'm a hypocrite saying that, but I never want you to give up on yourself, your dreams and ambitions, maybe even a successful relationship.

Tears were rolling down my face. I didn't want to read anymore, but I had to finish it.

Just promise you'll only remember the good things. Our first date. The time we first kissed. The Ferris Wheel. The endless talks on the phone when we were sad or lonely or just wanted to hear each others voices. Just remembering these things makes me want to change my mind. I want to thanks you. Thank you for helping me get over my addictions. Thank you for helping me when I was struggling to find healing, love, and hope. Never forget that you were the one and only girl in my life and that no matter how long it takes for you to grieve, I will be there right by your side. I love you.

I closed the note. What? Why would he do this to me? I gave him everything. My love, affection, attention, time, care, hope. How could he just give up? I looked around. Where was he? I had searched everywhere but the main bathroom. I walked slowly. I was dreading this moment. I didn't want to know his fate. I slowly opened the door and saw him laying in the tub.

“No!” I screamed, looking up, as if I was yelling at God. I ran to him and held his limp body in my embrace. He couldn't be dead. He had to be alive. I checked his pulse. Slowly but surely, it was there.

“Honey? Can you hear me? You're okay. Everything will be okay.”

I picked him up, struggling, and took him down to the car. I set him in the backseat, got in, and started the car. I parked crookedly and pulled him out of the car. The emergency room was nearly empty when I busted through the doors, carrying him.

“Please,” I said breathlessly to the nurse that rushed over, “please save him. He's the only thing I have left.”

They had now put him on a stretcher and oxygen. An E.R. doctor came up to me.

“What happened?” he asked.

I calmed down a little to tell him.

“I came home and saw he was missing. I found him, overdosed on pills, in the tub in the bathroom.”

A nurse proceeded to take me out to the waiting room.

“They are pumping his stomach now. He'll be okay,” she said reassuring me, squeezed my shoulder, and walked away.

It felt like it had been 10 hours before the doctor came out.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he said looking at me sympathetically, “but he's dying. The drugs took a turn on his system before we could save him. Now would be a good time to say goodbye before we take him off life support.”

I didn't respond, but instead ran to the room he was in. He was lying on the bed, weak and barely alive.

I hugged him.

“Don't leave me,” he said weakly.

“I won't ever leave you,” I said, sobbing and holding him closer.

“Can I have one last kiss?”

I didn't say anything, just kissed him. Lovingly. Passionately. It was our last kiss. I held his hand. The nurse and doctor walked in to the room.

“I'm sorry, we have to cut it off now or he will die painfully,” the doctor said.

The nurse came over and held me while he weakly squeezed my hand.

They pulled the plug. His hand become limp and the monitor was making a monotone sound. I couldn't believe it. He was gone. I was sitting int the hospital chair, staring into space. All the good times we had. Now the love of my life, my soul mate, was gone. He'll never be here again. He'll never come back. I stood up quickly and ran down to my car. Once I was home, I ran inside and slammed the door. The house was quiet. It was driving me insane. He brought life to our house. I looked around and fell on my knees, crying hysterically.

Why did God have to do this to me? What did I do to deserve this? I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. If he was gone, I was going to go with him. I ran up to my room. Tears were streaming down my face. Was I ready for death? I sat on my bed, getting in the fetal position. He was gone. I will never see his perfect smile or his beautiful eyes again. I will never be able to feel his arms around me or cuddle with him when I've had a bad day. It all happened so quickly. Just as I was about to plunge the knife into my heart, I heard my name. Faint at first, but louder with each second.

“Who's there? Let me be!”

I listened closer. It was his voice.

Don't do it. I love you. I'll always be here, whether you can see me or not.

I began bawling.

“Why did you have to go?” I yelled aloud, “you were supposed to be here for me.”

It's okay, I'm here.

As soon as I heard that, I felt a familiar warmth around me. I began to realize, everything would be okay.