Epilogue

We’d flipped several times before ending upside down, molded to a tree. They pried me loose with hardly a scratch – you suffered far worse. The doctors told me that you had traumatic brain injuries and you’d never be the same. At first, I was glad you had somehow survived. As the days wore on, that inkling of relief became remorse as the light slowly drained from your eyes. Day by day, I sat by your side listening to your guttural exclamations as you tried to find the words lodged in your throat. I wiped away the dribble after each futile attempt to express your fate. Sometimes your eyes would flicker from my eyes to the corners of your room as your fingers twitched, pointing to something that just wasn’t there. It had only been a week before the soft resignation in your eyes, only when you saw me, disappeared. Still, I came back, searching, hoping for something to change for the better. I’m not sure if you ever heard the words I said to you, or the stories I told to pass the time. Motionless you lied there as your eyes eventually glazed over, absent of any sensation. You never heard me say that it wasn’t your fault. I’d only just said it’s okay to let go when you closed your eyes for the last time.