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Essay / Through the darkness that is life - 772
At this point, the chemical smell of the hospital and the unadorned walls that surrounded me were too much to overcome, on top of what made me had already arrived. I was grateful that the sharp lump in my throat, the grotesque lump that meant endless sobbing, was gone. For now. As I lingered in the doctors' waiting room, no one comforted me. My mother sat in a chair in the corner, an apologetic frown etched on her face. Every now and then I would look at her, tears still visible in my red, swollen eyes, and she would say, “I’m so sorry.” Hell, it wasn't his fault. I'm sure word got around the small hospital because of the groups of doctors walking past them. They were still focused on their work, like all doctors, but they would give me a comforting look or nod their heads. Determined to stop crying after my makeup, I barely noticed the doctor approach me and say softly. touch my shoulder. Lawrence. » She sighed. Her low ponytail was a mess. She had been through about as much today as I had. In his hand, gripped by tight, white, trembling knuckles, was a bag containing Jonathan's clothes. “I’m sure you’d like to keep them.” His cologne was leaking out of the bag. Every minute of trying to hide my sadness passed. From my mouth and without my direct consent, a broken sob came out. I had just lost my husband. I try to stay in control. "THANKS." My mother took the bag in one hand and pushed my aching head against her shoulder, leaving me groaning as she accepted Jonathan's clothes from the doctor. Silently, they ushered me out of the waiting room and out the door. My mother passed the bag to my father, who remained silent all night. Steel but composed. He tried to hide it from me... middle of paper ... nk it had already been a year and a half since that day. My fiancé stood in front of me and squeezed my hands like a delicate flower. The priest read his typical lines while I looked into Jonathan's infinite, warm face. He felt at home. It felt like a dewy summer day in the mountains. The way his smile became twisted when he was truly at peace made me fall in love with him all over again every day. “Do you, Jonathan Taylor Lawrence, take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife?” The priest's voice penetrated my attention to Jonathan's smile. Without hesitation, Jonathan looked at me and took my face in his hands. Her perfect smile tilted to the side. Light enveloped us both, something I hadn't recognized on our wedding day. I got so hot. Jonathan traced my cheek with his thumb and in one of the most beautiful voices I've ever heard, he said, "I'm fine..”