She's still staring at me. I've tried not to look at her but I can feel a tug on my eyes - I need to look to make sure she's still there even though I can see her in the corner of my eye and she's been dead for twenty years now so it's not like she can go anywhere.
But still.
I wouldn't be in this mess if winter hadn't come so early, if I hadn't run out of firewood, if I had the guts to bury her right away and not spend my best years desperately trying to preserve the woman I love. There are so many 'what if's and 'if only's it'd drive her crazy if she were alive again.
I made her coffin myself, you know. I used her favourite tree on the outskirts of our property. Couldn't bear to see if without her smiling up and telling me to come hear all the baby birds sing. It made a decent enough box for her, something I could easily open when I started to miss her face.
Now I can't close it. Ran out of firewood so I had to start making do with what I had to hand.
I hope she forgives me when we meet in the afterlife and I hope she understands that I had no choice.
I can't join her yet, not until I find a way to preserve her forever.
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