Chapter Text
It’s been around two months. Time flies by, huh? I can’t really say that.
I miss her everyday.
Bella.
Today is the 23rd of October, if that even matters.
I wanted to start earlier, but as the 19th got closer all of my energy disappeared.
I started therapy, my parents recommended it, yours started too, and your sister. At first I was against it, I mean, how can I not ball my eyes out after my wife just committed!? But then I accepted it. I think you would be proud of me.
He suggested get rid of not important things, old clothes, earrings, your flower pen that you wrote with almost everyday. I couldn’t do it…but!, when I finally gathered up the courage to roam through your things, I found a little dark brown notebook, hidden inside the pocket of the “hideous coat” my mom gifted you last Christmas.
I sat down and opened it.
“If you are reading this, then S T O P ! This belongs to Bella Woods. (Chris, I love you but do not read my diary!)”
I laughed, kind of. What a “teen” thing to write on your diary. “I love you”, I read it while hearing your voice in my head, and I almost started to tear up once again right then and there.
Jesus.
Back to business, We both know I was going to read this even with a warning.
“My mom always wrote, everyday, so I have decided to write too! A little diary just for me, myself and I!; The truth is, my life isn’t all that interesting, I am a housewife, how fun! Heh… but still, I’m sure I will find something to write about as the days pass. I suppose I should start now, maybe an introduction for this diary? I am Bella Woods, well, I am now, before getting married I was Bella Bailey, and everyone always told me that I was exactly how my name described me: I love yellow, dogs and spring, I enjoy baking and reading, kids, oh I love my nieces and nephews! Enough of that…. I am 39 years old and I am married to Christian Woods! I think that is a hell of an introduction.
Hopefully tomorrow I can write something better. 03/03/2010”
I couldn’t do it, I started crying.
Like a movie, I heard her voice while reading every word. She described herself very well, hopefully I can hold on to this when I’m old and with dementia, or something like that.
Clara and Arthur, I can already hear their cries when they find out Aunt Bella is actually not traveling but dead.
• “ I couldn’t take her things out of the room. I don’t think I will ever be . . . “
Jesus, I can’t even send a simple text updating my therapist now?
The phone is now on the floor. I will just use my computer incase it broke.
I hate being sad, I hate that it’s getting colder and gray, I hate that I can’t follow your old advices and think of good things to get out of bed and talk to people.
You were the only good thing in my life and now you are gone.
Was it your old high school bullies?
Or maybe it was you being alone inside the house all day.
Or maybe it was my mom’s comment.
Everything makes sense but it doesn’t, and I will never know what happened.
I can’t bring myself to read more, I’m already spiraling. I should take another nap.