When I was 27 I asked you to give me one last thing.

~

At 3:48 am I sat up in bed; awake and gasping for air as beads of sweat race down my face and body. I couldn't escape your grasp, I couldn't get you down, I couldn't explain. No matter what I did in this persisting dream, there was nothing that I was supposed to do. 

Th guilt of being blamed for your suicide had suffocated me. Everyone had forgiven me, everyone had moved on knowing I wouldn't have pushed you to it or not cared, but then why did this guilt still weigh down on my chest? Had I not forgiven myself for that night? Had I begun to believe I could have stopped you?

Your accusing stare haunted me day and night and as I thought about it I began to think that you blamed me. You blamed me for your inevitable death.

I pulled my guilt to one last place, a cemetery. I stood, looking at your tombstone.

"Let me ask you for one last thing and if you ever loved me you'll grant me this last wish." I never took my eyes off the tombstone as I spoke my last wish.

"Please forgive me," I whispered. 

End