Rising Again in the Aristocracy

What do you do when you have nothing else to live for? When the world closes in on you and rips your soul apart, leaving you dying and aching on the inside. How does one regain the pieces that have been scattered to the wind?

On the day I lost Carson, my world went gray and dark. The light inside me died when he was taken from me. I remember wiping the tears angrily away from my eyes as I sat there beside him. I wanted to see him clearly, to remember everything about my final moments with the man I had loved, cherished, and called my husband for the past two years. We were building a life together, and now it was going to be lost.

Holding his hand while he lay broken and battered in the hospital bed, I couldn’t begin to fathom what my life was going to be like without him. As strong as Carson was, I knew it took all of his strength to even try to hold on. I wanted to take that pain away and keep it as my own. No one should ever have to see the person they love die in front of their eyes. I knew I would never forget the love and adoration in his gaze when he spoke those final words on his last dying breath.

“I love you, Kori,” Carson says to me, his breathing raspy and forced, and I know it’s agony for him to breathe because of the broken ribs. His face is almost unrecognizable from the damage of the crash, but no matter what, I’ll always see the angelic face of my husband in my mind. My heart has broken into a million pieces just looking at him so helpless and visibly in pain. If I could trade places with him to spare him the anguish I would. A million times over I would.

“I love you so much, Carson. You can’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” I choke as a sob escapes my lips. I have to remain strong for him, but how can I when he’s facing death and I’m about to lose him. A tear escapes from the corner of his eye, and before I can speak again he grips my hand tightly.

“Shh, don’t cry. I need you to promise me …”

I lean over him, desperate to hear what he wants me to promise him. I’ll promise him anything if it will keep him here longer. “Promise you what, Carson?” I say quickly, knowing time is running out. The beeping of the machines begins to slow down … slower and slower. Breaking down into tears, I desperately try to cling onto him, to feel the life inside of him before it dies away. How can his time be up when he has so much to live for?

With quivering lips, I kiss him gently, branding the feel of him in my mind so I will always remember. Our final kiss, the last one we will share forever. His eyes flutter open one last time and on his last breath he cries, “Promise me you’ll …” But that’s as far as he gets. I sit there frozen, stunned into silence, when I see that he’s breathing no more.

“Promise you what, Carson?” I scream desperately. I need to know what he was going to say. I take his face in my hands, willing the life back into his body, but his eyes stay locked onto mine as his soul is set free. The machines begin their long and drawn out beeping, signaling the passing of my beloved husband. I am frozen in place, numb on the outside but in despair on the inside as I stare at the lifeless form of the man I have grown to love and cherish. His body is still, so very still. My tears flow like hot rivers down my cheeks, landing on his bruised face. “I love you. I will always love you,” I cry. My lungs feel constricted and the world seems to be closing in around me. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, and I sure as hell can’t believe that my husband is now gone ... forever. How am I going to face the future without him? He’s gone … and from this moment on, so is my heart.

Just when I thought moving on was possible, that day and the way it felt would come stumbling back in like a plague, consuming me with its pain. Sometimes I wanted to imagine it was all just a bad dream, but then reality would strike and the memories came flooding back of the day Carson died, and of the fear that if I ever decided to love again I’d be doomed to face the same torment. Bearing that kind of pain again was not something I wanted to endure.