Shadows in Smiles

You Sleep Forever But I Will Wake You Now

          Lying on the bed, sheets stark white like newly fallen snow, and yet he doesn't even shiver against the cold. Gingerly, I gaze down at his face, so young, so promising. Yet, even with eyes closed against the beeping of machines, I notice the sadness that weighs down his face, his mouth sunken into a perpetual frown, a stone soldier lying where he falls.
           Quietly, I whisper, "I love you."
           It's so difficult to look at him. I grab at his fingers and squeeze them, trying to shove my life into him. But, he's silent. His chest gently rises and falls, but only because of these machines. They say he's alive. I want to believe them. But, I just can't. It's been months. And still, he's a statue of who he used to be and what he won't ever have a chance to be.
           "I'll do this for you."
           I lift his hand up to my lips and press a kiss on each finger and in the center of his palm. Every mother I know is giving me heartache over this. But, I'm not doing it for me. If I wanted to do something for me, I would hold onto the hope that I just have to keep waiting before I see his shining eyes again. But, this is for him. He doesn't want to stay a shell of himself that you press to your ear to hear the ocean to reassure yourself that you can keep it forever. Just because his heart beats, it doesn't mean he's there.
           Swiping at my tears, I stand up. Thrust back my shoulders. Lift up my chin. Walk away from him. Grab his doctor. Tell him "Now." Walk away from him forever but carry him in my heart for always.
            Just remember, this is for you. It's always been for you. And if I go to hell for this, I hope you at least give me a hug before I burn so that I know it was worth it.