Her Wedding Day by Olivia Davis

It’s been 12 years now

since you left me

to face this life alone.

Why did you have to leave?

We were only forty.

To some, forty is old.

But to us our life was spread out,

the possibilities endless.

It was ours for the taking.

Or so I thought.

I didn’t know you were in trouble.

If you were, I would have helped.

You should have known that.

You should have known I would have done

anything and everything for you.

And that’s the honest truth.

I could have helped you get the money

and then you could still be alive.

You could be sitting right next to me,

watching our daughter walk down the aisle.

They say the spirits of loved ones

are always with us.

But I didn’t feel anything

the day you got shot.

I didn’t feel you

when I identified your body.

I didn’t feel your presence at your funeral.

What kind of a husband leaves his wife?

I didn’t even feel you

during our daughters’ high school

and college graduations.

What kind of a father leaves his children?

People think I’m crying

because I’m happy my oldest daughter

is getting married to the man of her dreams.

But the real reason I’m crying

is because I’m thinking about our wedding day

and how happy we both were,

and how much you resembled

the man of my dreams.

You don’t even visit my dreams anymore.

Only once did you visit my dreams.

We were sitting across from each other

in an empty white-walled and white-carpeted room.

You said, “I love you.”

I tried to say it back.

I really did, but the words

wouldn’t come out.

Did you leave me because

I couldn’t say “I love you too”?

What kind of a man

leaves the woman he loves?

What kind of a mother am I

that I am not even happy for my daughter?
I’m too jealous of her.

The man she loves is still love.