If only we could turn back time

Dewi K

It was still cold that late afternoon after the rain. I sat on the rear porch, facing the small garden. I gently stroked my chair, and it was as cold as my heart. There was a chill about everything in the house.

You were buried early this afternoon. My relatives have gone now and I have put my children to bed to rest. I am at a loss what to do. I have shed all my tears, but now I cry in my heart.

Bowo, why have you left before we had the chance to become close again after our long estrangement. I regret delaying our reconciliation. I regret my deep hesitation about revealing my heart to you. I love you very much, Bowo, and now that you are gone forever, I so need your presence in my house.

I am curious, Bowo, whether you still had just a tiny space left for me in your heart. After 15 years of marriage and two children, what did I mean to you? In the last months of your life, we had only quarrel after quarrel. Bowo, I'm really curious whether you still loved me.

When we married, everything was sweet. Our days were filled with happiness, especially with the birth of Rama and Nita. We did everything together and pampered each other every day of our lives.

I do not know when things changed the way they did. We changed when we became embroiled in so many problems. Even now I do not know when all the kindness and warmth began to disappear from our lives. We said harsh, mean things to each other and gave each other cold stares.

We began to avoid each other; our conversations were nothing more than a few words uttered with no feeling. We never wanted to concede to the other. We never wanted to initiate an apology. I waited and you, I believe, waited, too. As time went by, our relations became increasingly more sour and colder.

I have always been curious about what made us unable to come to a compromise. Now I think of it, all the trouble began when you got promotion in your career and earned more money. We could buy a house, a car and we no longer had to make careful calculations before buying one thing or another.

You became more absorbed in your work and left less and less time for me and your children. That was our turning point.

You always complained that I had never supported you in your career because I always wanted you to set aside some time for me and our children. You always argued that you worked really hard to ensure that our children would have food on the table and a good future.

You wanted me to understand you, but all we had were quarrel upon quarrel, so vicious and energy sapping.

One month before you passed away, I had had enough. It was too much, and now our children were showing the signs of being affected. Rama became disobedient, and I could do nothing. I was shocked when I was called in to see his teacher, who told me that Rama often picked fights with his classmates.

I was told that he had no friends at school. He confided to his teacher that he hated us because all we did was quarrel with each other. I remember him asking me once: "Mom, don't you and Dad love each other? Why do you argue all the time?"

Another time, he asked me: "Mom, Aunt Mercy across the road always kisses Uncle Rio when he leaves the house. Why have you never kissed Dad when he goes to the office?" I could never answer such questions.

I always thought about making up with you. I never thought of getting a divorce, no matter how serious our problems were. I love you, Bowo, I really do. I always thought there would be enough time to make up and enjoy the sweet times again, like what we had before. I knew it would not be as easy but I was convinced if we tried, we could bring our hearts closer. I wanted to try and I had a lot of opportunities to try, but I had never had the courage to start talking about it with you.

Once you sat alone in front of the television and I took a seat next to you. You simply kept quiet. I really wanted to touch your hand, but I saw your eyes glued to the TV screen. You seemed to ignore my presence. I sat until you got up and went to your bedroom. I wanted to follow you, but did not have the courage to do so. I hesitated.

The next day you left again, without even looking at me, while I was helping our children to get ready for school. You strode directly to your car and left. I could only watch the car disappear.

You only gave me a call when it was really necessary to do so and even then you were terse. And I, likewise, answered briefly. If I reported a problem to you, you would speak to me shrilly: "You can never take care of anything." And I would snap back, "You don't know what you're talking about". So tiring, so hurtful.

I realize now that we kept things short because we did not want it to descend into a quarrel, as usual. You would get home very late and I thought it would be beneath me to ask you where you had been.

Two weeks before you passed away, you complained that you were not feeling well and would stay home. I made you chicken porridge and you ate it, silently. I offered to accompany you to see the doctor, but you said you preferred to go alone.

I was really hurt as you did not need me any more. I thought, that how we could ever mend our relationship again. I was shocked when a week later you collapsed. I hurriedly took you to the hospital and left you there at the insistence of the doctor.

I blamed myself for not knowing that for the past year you had battled malignant cancer. You never told me about it and I, your wife, failed to notice any change in your health. I thought you were thinner because you were too tired from working.

You went into a coma. I waited at your side and blamed myself all the time. On your last day, I touched your hand. I gently stroked your cheeks and kissed your lips. I wept and wept and whispered my love in your ears: "Bowo, I love you. I need you. I beg you not to leave me. We can start all over anew again. We can start our love again."

I pleaded to God to grant us more time to mend our relationship. But it was too late. That night, you left us forever, without uttering even a single word.

I only returned to my senses that afternoon on the porch when the clock struck six times. I went into the bedroom, taking a piece of paper and reading it again. I had read it many times before. I found it lying on the bed after I returned home from the hospital on the day Bowo passed away.

My dear wife, I know I will be gone forever when you read this letter. I apologize for all my mistakes to you. Believe me, I also forgive you. I still love you, Marni. And I believe you also still love me.

I really wanted to feel our sweet love in the last days of my life. My doctor told me I could live only a week at most. Indeed, I really wanted to be close together again with you like before but, on second thought, I think it would be better this way or you will be hurt more. Now that I am gone. I hope you can continue your life and raise our two children well.

Love always. Bowo

When I found the letter, there was a small box next to it. When I opened it, it contained all of our house and car papers as well as deposit and insurance certificates. As I held them in my hands, I realized I would give them all up just to have you back with me.

Translated by Lie Hua