If only we could turn back time

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