You and me

The image is embedded into my head. Morning and night, it’s there. Never falters. It’s the kind of image that you think only belongs on the movie screen. An image that was created by special effects, lighting and angle control. But there are no camera men, makeup artists, or a director to yell “CUT!” It was just me, and you in that room. And that is the image that is stuck in my head.

I hadn’t expected you to be home. You were never home at this time of day. So why would today be any different? The TV was left on, playing a rerun of some talk show where the host only wanted to talk about which Celeb did something wrong, and what She was wearing, or what He had said. The half empty coffee cup still sitting next to the abandoned remote. Yesterday’s mail scattered across the table, semi separated by who it belonged to and if it was deemed junk and trash worthy. 

This morning's breakfast still sat on the stove, unbothered by the couple flies that began to swarm around. The gravy had thickened to an almost paste like consistency while the biscuits turned stiff and cold on the long baking sheet. The grease left in the pan sitting by itself now. Abandoned by the bacon that once sat in there with it. No bacon in sight, but a spoonful of now rubber eggs sat on the counter in a bowl.

I continued down the hall, bypassing your room to get to the bathroom. It wasn’t until after I had already finished releasing my bladder, washing my hands, and taking an extra long moment to admire myself in the mirror, that I had realized what was off. Your door was shut. Your door had never been shut before. You always kept it open because you didn’t like the feeling of isolating yourself off from everyone else in the house. You kept your door open so the kids could come in and play with the many toys you insisted on keeping. You kept your door open so anyone could decide to come in and jam out with you on your guitar whenever they felt like they needed that moment. You kept your door open for us. But as I stood in front of it at that moment, it was closed. 

The first mistake I made was opening that door. I should have just left it closed. You wanted it closed. So why did I have to open it? The first thing I saw when I opened that door was the lack of sunshine in the room. It was dim, and depressing. I finally noticed your orange fat cat as she darted between my legs, screeching like she just heard the ice cream truck rolling onto the street. It was then that I decided to look to my left, and that’s when I saw you.

I wish I hadn’t seen you. I would give anything if I could go back and not have stepped into your room. But there you were. You were paler than I had remembered you being this morning. But I had noticed those dark circles under your eyes. They had resided in their proclaimed spot for the last couple weeks, but no one dared to comment about it. The worry lines that usually sat along your forehead seemed to have smoothed themselves out. Your lips still laid in a thin line, barely touching. I recalled that morning, someone making a snide comment about how chapped your lips were. Right now, they looked dry and cracked as if they hadn’t had a drop of water in weeks. My vision began to blur and it became harder to examine what I was looking at. I should have stopped there. I should have walked out that room, but I didn’t.

Your eyes remained opened. But they weren’t their usual color of an old, rusty, copper penny glistening in the reflected rays of the sunshine off a glass surface. No, they were glossed over in hues of charcoal staring off into no meaningful direction. Your eyes stared into my direction, but you were not looking at me. You were looking at nothing but the abyss of emptiness. An eternity of darkness. 

The rope that clung around your throat almost looked like it was a part of you. It strained against the tension of your lifeless body just slightly swaying from side to side. The other end of the rope grasped a wooden beam that looked like it was about to snap in half, but wasn’t fortunate enough to have completed the task before we ended up living in this moment. 

So I don’t know why I had to be the first one to come through that front door. Or why I had to open your door. Or why I had to look to my left. And for the life of me, I don’t know why I couldn’t look away as the tears started to stream down my face. I don’t know why I just stood there, staring at your lifeless corpse dangling from your ceiling. 

This is the image that is embedded into my head. The image I see everytime I close my eyes and every time I allow my mind to wander when my eyes are open. There was no movie set in that room. There was no special effects artists standing off to the side of the room. And there most definitely was no director in that room to yell “CUT!” at the end. It was just you and me.