Time

I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t even know what had happened until the cold came and even then it didn’t really sink in until I heard the screams. Then came the sirens. I remember the white. Everything was painfully bright white. I watched her cry. Then I became detached and she cried harder. I was surprised at the flowers. Red roses and white daisies piled on top of the box. How could she have remembered my favorite flowers? She never cared before, or so I thought. In that moment I wanted to take it all back. To do it over with the knowledge I now had. She loved me. She was always there for me. Things that I didn’t see then became painfully clear. She had bought me all the things I wanted and had even planned a vacation for just the two of us. I didn’t seen then how much she cared and she didn’t see how much I hurt. Sitting there in the church next to her. I reached out.
“I’m sorry mom. If I could go back and stop myself, ignore that gun for just one more hour, I would. And then you wouldn’t be in the pain that I knew before. I love you.” And then I let myself slide down into the oblivion of death, to that place where suicide victims go.