It was a clear morning and Brooklyn had that particular feeling that you don’t get in any other part of the city. A little wider and breezier, so different from the chaos and rush surrounding my publishing office downtown. I boarded the subway car closest one to the stairs and you were climbing those steps trying to make it to the train like many others. The bell went off and the door started creaking. There was only a few seconds for you to go through those doors and make it to work on time. I placed my hand to hold the narrowing doors, you came in, said ‘thank you’ and we went our ways.
The next morning you were on time and when you crossed those doors again, you saw a familiar face and thanked me once more. The chaos faded and time seemed to slow down.
I learned about your job in fashion, and you became acquainted with my work in publishing. Our strolls on the city streets became dates and our dates turned into travels that led to a beautiful binding of our lives. You got to know every nook and cranny of our home, every day and night of our lives, every tab and blank that made us who we were.
At times we would have a hard day or may have an argument but no matter what, we would finish our day with a kiss good night and start the next day with a coffee at the kitchen table. Sunlight would gently hit our kitchen table, we’d talk about what the day had ahead and any pending things from the day before. I can’t forgive myself that I missed to notice the faint shade obstructing the sunlight by the window. Our home was always busy and this shade was so subtle at first that we didn’t think anything when it would show in the corner of your eye causing hesitation. At times it would make you uneasy and other times you could ignore and keep on caring for our beloved home. It was not until the shade became dark enough that a shadow was looking directly into your eyes. That moment you became frightened.
It was my fault not seeing it. I couldn’t understand it or act on it. It dug inside of you so deeply that it was not going to let go. Days became longer. I spent every minute of every hour of every day soothing your fear of uncertainty and confusion. Nights were becoming a blur of pacing and fear and I would walk along you making sure that you had everything to keep you safe.
It would devastate my heart when the shadow would take my features, my eyes, my voice and my hands making you run away from me. The wooden spoon was your best weapon to release yourself from my stranger arms. I wanted to help, I begged, sought and pleaded for someone, for something, for anything to strengthen me to save you, to comfort you, to abet our happily ever after.
Seeing you present but no there has been the hardest time of my life. You were my responsibility, and I made sure you were taken care of, that there was no suffering. Those glimpses when you called my name would pierce me with immense joy just to be pulled out leaving another bleeding wound in its place. The shadow slowly dissipated leaving a void of absence in its place. When your time came, our pain went along.
A year has passed. I grew old, same as our home. Our children come and go, but I still long for your company. Every day I feel you by my side and all the memories flow like rivers through my eyes. Just the other day our little sweet granddaughter asked me if someone will hold the train door for her someday. It is a pleasant memory that I cherish while I lie down in this hospital bed. I know it won’t be long. The doctors say my heart is failing but I know it is my broken heart.
I hear the end of the bell. Would you hold the door for me?