Was there a time when you had to let go of someone or something? How did it make you feel? How did you handle it? Or if that's too personal - which I completely understand - how about writing a piece of flash fiction?
The only rules are - obviously - it has to be related to letting go, and please keep it to a maximum of 500 words.
When the day arrives, I will hop around to all the entries, along with my independent judge (otherwise known as "Mum" LOL), and the story that touches us the most will win a $10 Amazon gift card!
Just for fun, here is my entry - a short piece of flash fiction I wrote a few years ago. :D
Brushing away a tear with the back of my hand, I listened to his shallow, hollow breathing and my heart ached with the weight of my grief. The man I loved was dying, and while I tried to keep a brave face on my agony, inside it was eating me up. So much, I felt like I was dying with him. Maybe I was. When the time came, I knew a big part of me would go with him.
He’d been my everything since we were eighteen years old. Back then, when everything was easy and fun, we could never have known what was to come. That after just three years of marriage, he’d be diagnosed with a terminal illness, throwing life as we knew it into complete disarray.
He fought hard. I’d seen him through tests, doctor appointments, treatment. And still the illness wouldn’t loosen its hold. It stayed, draining the life out of him, making all of our efforts pointless.
His fingers twitched lightly in my hand, and my head jerked upwards to look at him. His eyes flickered briefly, before opening for the first time in what felt like forever.
My heart beat faster, just as his was slowing down, and I stood up from my chair and sat beside him on the bed, wanting to be closer to him for the last few moments of his life. I carefully brushed his hair from his forehead and let my hand rest on his cheek. The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a tiny smile, and my tears began to fall as I tried to smile back at him.
“It’s time to go,” he said, in a low, raspy voice that sounded nothing like the way it should.
I nodded, trying not to choke on the lump on my throat. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes closing for the last time.
“I love you too. Always have, always will.”
And I waited. Waited as the rise and fall of his chest slowed to a stop, his hand loosening in mine.
With no-one around to stay strong for, I finally let go of all the pain and anger I’d held inside for so long.
As the bright sunshine streamed in through the window, I rested my head on his chest and wept.
Now it's your turn!