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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1921826-Wanda
Rated: E · Fiction · Death · #1921826
The love of my life...on display. (This was not well put-together. Sorry)
         I looked at her with my eyes. I stared into the windows to her soul, and I saw in that instance, what love was.
         When I met Wanda, I had no idea. Love was a myth--something people made up to trick you into dating and getting your damn heart broken. That was all it was to me.
         But Wanda made all the love songs make sense. Clouds seemed to disappear, worries drowned in joy, and she made me better. She made me a better me.
         That is what stunned me the most. How much better love made me. As I sit here and watch my love, my soul mate, my other half...as she lays in her bed, tears in her eyes, it baffles me how much better of a person I was. Happier and more sincere, honest and compassionate. I could honestly say my life was better.
         My parents, who I had been on good terms with before, were now some of my biggest supporters. My brother and I were closer than ever; my sister and I had decent conversations. The rest of my family loved me more, and I loved them more.
         Wanda made my capacity for love grow. Not just for her, but for everyone and everything. I used to walk through the park and grumble about the birds; now I go to the park just to feed them bread. I love those birds. So many of them, and they're all adorable and unique and worth seeing twice.
         But despite everything Wanda made me, I was unable to do the one thing she needed. As I sit here, watching her in her bed, crying and shouting at the same time, I can't help but feel I failed the one woman who stole my heart. I grab her hand as the doctor leaves the room.
         There's probably not much time left...
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