Please listen to Ronan by Taylor Swift while reading this, it'll make it that much better. www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8l_js…
I curl closer to his cold, hairless body. He squeezes my shoulder and holds me closer. I squirm slightly, careful not to hurt him. My face is pressed against his once muscular chest. He lightly brushes his knuckles against my cheek.
I remember this exact day last year, after we had gotten home from his routine check-up. Donovan's doctor had taken several tests and we were waiting for a phone call to hear the results. We lied in bed holding each other just like this. He lightly brushed his knuckles against my cheek and said, "It's going to be alright. I promise. It's going to be alright."
Since then, Donovan has been through seemingly every kind of cancer treatment, thought he never gets any better. The cancer still persists, and I've been with him every step of the way. Now is not the time for memories, it's the time for living now. Stretching every single moment with him. I listen to his weak, uneven heartbeat underneath my head. Visiting hours ended 30 minutes ago, but the nurses don't dare bother us. I've been here for two days straight with little sleep. I feel a teardrop land on my forehead. I look up into his big brown eyes. "I... I love you... so much. You'll never know how... how much I love you. I'm so sorry," He hasn't gone a day without telling me so. His voice has gotten weaker with every apology. "I'm so sorry. I wish... I wish that..." He coughs, but when I start to get up to get him water, he shakes his head. After a deep breath, he continues, "I wish that it... didn't have to be this way. You know... you know that if it was up to me, you would've left me a long time ago..."
I cut him off with a finger in front of his lips, "I love you. Donovan, I love you. I'm not going to leave you because you're sick. Even if it is for my own good. I will never leave you. No matter what. Shhhh... It's alright." I'm careful to hide the pain in my voice. I press my lips against his gently. His lips taste of chemicals and blood, but his taste is still there. Peppermints and strawberries. Maybe it's just my imagination.
"Jamie?" He says in a deep, hoarse voice.
"Hmmm?" I close my eyes.
"You have... the most beautiful voice. Will you sing to me? Please?" Tears pour down my cheeks and onto him as I nod my head. I take a deep breath and start singing our song. It was the first song we danced to. His laugh surprises me, I haven't heard it in a while. I feel him smile and kiss the top of my head.
Later that year, I tell his story in front of a large crowd, and each person holding white candles in plastic cups. All kinds of people are there. Young, old, men, women, gay, straight, Asian, African American, Mexican, Caucasian, big, and small. I tell his story again every year, and with each year comes another hundred people listening. The more I tell his story, the more people want to listen. After only 5 years, I'm telling his story every couple of months. In front of our hometown, on local news, on national news. I will never forget, I will never move on, and I will never stop loving him. Nobody could ever take his place. My heart aches with every beat for the day that I will see him again, the day that I will hold him again. Until then, I will keep telling his story, and I will cry every time I tell it.