When I'm Gone

by Emily Bleeker

How was he doing? Hmm. He hated this question. No one really wanted to know how you were doing. They wanted you to tell them how okay you were so they didn’t have to feel weird around you. Luke would rather lie about his mental state than deal with everyone’s awkward silence and looks of pity. He always took the easy way out and told them what they wanted to hear. Brian wasn’t a close enough friend to cry in front of, so Luke went with his normal response.

So true. I have experienced this first hand. It became very apparent to me how uncomfortable people would get with the truth.

He had a real mom, with flesh and blood and a heartbeat he could feel and hear. A heart he grew under for nine months. A body that fed him for another ten. Arms that held him for three years. How did he forget? How could he think this piece of technology could replace his mother?

always amazed him how something that is broken on the inside can look so perfect on the outside.

His cheeks hurt from smiling

so much, or maybe his facial muscles were out of practice.

How could he find a future with someone if he couldn’t stop obsessing about what happened in the past?

He wrapped his arms around his back and slung him over in a tackle/bear hug combo. When he held his kids in his arms, Luke could feel how much they’d grown in the past six weeks. It was bittersweet to see their faces; he’d missed them more than he could even realize, but every change he noticed reminded him that he never got to see Mallory grow up.

He never should’ve let them go for so long. The house needed children.

One more reason he should be living for his kids, not for some dead woman, even if that woman was the one person he’d ever felt loved him unconditionally. The kids were worth more than his pain.

His seat was still open, and Luke reclaimed it and placed the box on his lap. Sitting in the barren, chair-lined room gave him a sense of déjà vu. It felt like he’d been in a waiting room since Natalie’s death—waiting for a letter, waiting for instructions, waiting to feel something other than sorrow, waiting for May to smile without guilt, for Will to feel like he belonged in their family, Clayton to sleep without a phone in his hands, for Annie to find peace.

After today there would be no more waiting. Tomorrow they would start living again.