My Little Bluebelle

My wife died when the bluebells had just started to blossom.

Her favourite flowers.

There will be no more long walks through the ancient woods near our country house. I always liked seeing that spark in her eyes when we reached the bluebell woods. We used to walk through the carpet of these violet-blue flowers, and she usually laughed and talked nonsense. I would complain about the strong scent of the flowers, and she would just carelessly wave me off and continued to enjoy herself. I would tease her about behaving like a child, and she'd always give me that cheeky look.

Oh, that look!

I made sure that her wreath was made of bluebells. I picked them myself. They're protected by the law, but who cares. Let them fine me! Let them sue me! Like it makes any difference now...

You know, I couldn't even cry. At the funeral. My soul was empty. What was there to live for now? My heart went with her. My soul was crushed. But my body kept working. I was so mad!

"Why didn't you die?! You should be in that box right now! Not her!" I wanted to scream. But I didn't. I couldn't.

My mother approached me after the funeral.

"How are you?", she asked sheepishly.

I didn't respond. I just wanted everyone to go away and leave me the fuck alone.

"Look, I know that you're in no mood to talk right now, I know that you're sad and angry, but we really need to solve this issue..."

"I want to be alone. ALONE. A-L-O-N-E. Do you understand?!", I glared at her.

"B-but, what about your..."

"I don't want any monsters on my back! Just give it away! What do I care?"

The look of complete and utter shock on my mother's face quickly turned into complete and utter anger.

"How dare you say that! It's not a monster, it's your child!"

"That thing killed her." I felt the heat hit my face
"If it wasn't for that thing she wouldn't have died, she would still be alive!", my hands started shaking and my eyes started to burn.

"Well," she said slowly, piercing me with her eyes "I'm sure you didn't complain when you were making it."

I gasped.

That was below the belt. And yet, it was so true; I was a part of it, too. How could I put all the blame on the baby? Perhaps I could have done something different that could have saved her...

I was bathing in cold sweat now.

My mother saw the look of defeat on my face, and said: „It's a girl. We didn't give her a name yet. You should at least see her before you decide to give her up for adoption“, she paused „You know, she has her mother's eyes.“

I felt so weak I had to sit down.

„I'll bring her to you right now.“

I nodded.

When she left, I thought to myself that this must be the worst day of my life. I closed my eyes to try to ease my headache. Massaging my temples didn't help so I stopped trying. I waited for what seemed to be a really long time.

Suddenly I heard footsteps coming closer. My heart started pounding. I couldn't make myself open my eyes. The footsteps stopped. My body tightened. After a moment of silence, I felt a weight on my lap. It was something small, warm and wiggly. When it chuckled, I finally opened my eyes.

And there it was! A baby with my wife's eyes. My wife's beautiful eyes.
Everything came back to me, all the good memories, all our long walks and our love. I could even hear her laugh again.

I broke down and cried my heart back to life.

What I realized that day when I laid my eyes on our precious baby was that I was such a fool to even think about rejecting such a gift that my wife had left me. A part of her still lives in my daughter. When spring comes, I always take my daughter for a walk through the very same woods where I used to go with my wife. She enjoys the carpet of flowers even more than my wife did. We laugh, we play, and sometimes, when I tell her stories about her mother, we even cry together.

She is my light and my purpose now.

My little Bluebelle.