I told her during our entire life together that I was stronger then her, that I would outlast her and long after her beauty faded and was eaten away by time, mine would remain.
As our years together wore on, I whispered and groaned in complaint about our life together.
I ground my teeth in anger, popped my knuckles in anger. Sometimes I would just sit and stare at the wall and refuse to move no matter how loud she yelled or cried or begged for me to get out of bed or up off of our sofa.
Ha! I was as stubborn as the day is long- and the nights too. On those days we went nowhere when the Spirit did not move me.
Sometimes I refused to life a finger even when it wanted me to.
Last November I woke up to find she was not moving- not a twitch of the eye, not a breath passing from between her slightly parted lips.
I smiled. I touched her chest. It was still.
Free, I thought.
I am free of her at last.
Photo A.M. Moscoso
So now I am in our coffin, dressed in her finest dress, smiling my eternal smile. I am still strong, my limbs are still threaded, stapled and glued together. I glow in the dark like a candle just about to give up it’s flame.
And I am still beautiful.
