Man, I hate Mondays, especially this Monday. It happened to fall on October 9th, one of the three hardest days of the year. Tying with August 26th and March 13th for the most difficult day award. My work already knew to give me this day off; I told them when I started that I refuse to work these days.

Slowly and dreadfully, I pulled myself out of bed. Grabbing the red and white roses, I walked out my door. Arriving to the graveyard, trying not to break down. You see, I buy the flowers the day before, this way I could avoid any type of human connection on the day of.

Kneeling down in front of her gravestone, gently placing the flowers, and lighting a candle; can you even fathom my pain? I pulled out a picture of us from my wallet and stared at it while I pulled myself together. My only solace is that she’s looking down on me from above.

“Hey… guess what. I did it, I passed guard class. I wish you were here to see it,” I struggled to say as I fought back tears.

You see, this is the grave of my ex wife. I come here every year in her birthday, the day we officially became married, and the day of her passing. She’s the reason I became a lifeguard, her biggest fear in life is bodies of water; she’s been terrified ever since she almost drowned at three years old, it’s was at the point where she’d only shower not take baths. I, on the other hand, love the water, I’d spend my whole life in it if I could.

We’ve been together since we were little, a total of 22 and 1/2 years before she passed. We got married as soon as we turned 18. Our families approved, our friends were ecstatic, and even our old teachers were proud. To them we were the ideal couple, every couple’s goal.

In our hearts, our love was like an island. My wife was the sun that warmed it, watched over it, and helped the life on it grow; that’s why her nickname was Sunshine. Every sun needs it moon, the one that strengthens the tides that form the island, the light in the dark to guide and ease any nightlife, and that was my role. Just like the sun and the moon, the two of us were complete opposites but a pair that can’t be outmatched.

Our friends and families were the inhabitants of our island. Every impression we made, every lesson we taught, and every moment we created showed itself as the flowers that bloomed and trees that stood tall. All of our arguments, the few that we had, showed themselves as the storms that the island sustained.

During her time on this earth, she was a dancer, and just like the sun and moon we danced together often. You may think, “if you guys were the sun and moon, then how come your love is just an island and not the whole earth?” Well, that’s simple, it’s because that island is where our creations began.

It’s our imprint in life, it’s the Pangea of our world. And just like the sun and moon, we’re not the only things that affect the earth. The stars, habitants of other planets, meteors, and even black holes take effect. And sadly, because she passed so young, our Pangea never had the chance to split apart; truthfully I don’t know if it ever would have any way, we work hard to take care of it.

I sat there all day and night reminiscing all of the time we spent together. Remembering how life was before bus accident that took her life. Before I left, I showed her the newest addition to the tattoo on my leg.

This tattoo was in her honor, a bunch of us got one for her, just in different locations and styles. Mine had those three dates in a timeline theme going down my leg, surrounded by important images. There was a sun representing her nickname, dance shoes for her favorite hobby, a red and white rose because they were her favorite flowers, a swing set portraying where we first met, and now a guard tube with the date I became certified on it. The only other tattoo I had, was the matching ones we got on my 18th birthday, hers was a lighthouse on her forearm and mine was a ship on my forearm.

As far as I’m concerned she can have my full body until the end of time. After all, she would be able to put it to better use than I ever could. A body isn’t useful without a soul.

As the flame of the candle danced, all I could see in its shadow was a silhouette of a woman. And when the wind blew it was almost as if I could hear her voice. It’s bittersweet how the brain will refuse to comprehend the permanence of someone’s absence.

“I miss you,” I whispered as I left.