Stargazing in Bali. (Edited as of 16/01)

When my mother lost my father at almost a century old, she recalled to him her fondest memory as I stood outside Room 21 at St. Mary’s Hospital, clutching a paper coffee cup. I only heard a muffled tale, which occasionally paused to allow a moment of choking tears. I swore in that moment that I would do the very same to you when God forbid, the time came.

Twenty-Eight years later and at a cruel age, the Heavens needed you. I hadn’t tried talking to you yet. I could barely bring myself to look at the man I slept beside for sixty-five years hooked to a mechanical device as our daughter waited outside.

‘Bali, 1998. We spent four days at that beach hut and the only thing we longed for were the nights.’ I started, finally cradling his hand in mine, interlocking my fingers with his for a last time. His ring had come off the previous day; the medication had made his hands and feet swell.

The hand I cradled was the one that didn’t have the cannula pierced into it. I couldn’t bear to look at the needle slitting through his paper skin, ruthlessly splitting open a vein. I hated the fact that they were tearing him up, and he would never be repaired. His body has always been such a fragile vessel. It harbored such beautiful thoughts and I was worried they would all escape if I let his hand go prematurely.

‘The moment we caught a glimpse of that first star in the sky, you used to grab my hand and practically run to that shoreline.’

I allowed myself an indulgent smile; the first I had managed in a few long days.

‘We were young again. I told you that I felt thirty-two that night and do you remember what you said back to me? You said, ‘Darling, you look it to.’ Oh, I never laughed so hard. Well, that youth didn’t last too long and we looked dreadful after running all that way to the edge of the water. You ran too far and your sandshoes got soaked so you took them off. I took mine off just so you wouldn’t feel different.’

I paused for a moment just to listen to your rhythmic breath sounds. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Your lungs were waves; kissing the shoreline in a rehearsed harmony.

‘You used to know all the constellations. You told me that Corona Borealis meant ‘Northern Star’ in Latin. I had looked at you with my eyebrows raised as I said ‘Dear, I haven’t studied Latin for years. It doesn’t matter to me.’ I never told you that your sister asked me about that star a few days later.’

I twirled a piece of my escaping brittle hair around in my fingertips, just like I used to do on our first dates when I was full of nerves.

‘Then, I wanted to impress you. I showed you Aries and told you it was my star sign. You looked at me and gave me the sweetest smile. ‘No.’ you had said ‘You are the whole Zodiac to me.’ And you held my hand under that Bali night sky whilst four-billion stars watched us grinning like two kids.’

I paused, just like my mother did. I pressed my fingers against my mouth to stifle a small gasp of air that I refused to turn into a choking tear. I had already lost you. Your fingers did not grasp mine back and your soft blue eyes did not gaze back into mine. Regardless of my tender and unforgiving age, I pray for someone to blame for taking you away when I was not ready. I would rid the sky of the sun to have you say my name once more. Just a syllable. It is all I yearn.

‘You know, I never looked at that night sky the same again after that Bali trip. When you started to forget where we kept the milk, the nights were not the same comforting nights we spent together. When you forgot where we lived, I craved that morning light so desperately. And when you forgot why you were wearing a wedding ring, I forgot how truly big the sky was. Each day that passed, the less I was your wife, and the more I was a woman who lived in your house.’

Recalling how I had felt, guilt swept over me. I should have tried harder. If he had remembered Bali, he would have remembered what it felt like to love me without limitation or question. I might have seen that man again.

‘You were confused and angry when I showed you photographs of all the places we went. You didn’t understand why we travelled so far to see a night sky that was everywhere. I was lost in a sea of stars with no constellations I could grasp, only an infinite detachment from my dear darling. I used to tease you for that mind of yours, but it is not the same world without it. How dare people just carry on watching those stars. Our stars.’

A hot burning tear finally rebelled and slid down my cheek. I let your hand go and tucked it underneath the cotton covers to rest on your stomach.

‘Now, the machine that breathes for you does not live for you. I am letting you go but dear, know that I long for you. I want to be taken away to be with those Bali stars once more. They mattered to me, every single one of them. And I swear we will watch that sky be born again. We will live a hundred more years of beautiful isolation together, just us and the Bali stars. Wait for me, dear. I will love you, even when you cannot remember how to.’

And so I did. For five more years I left his glasses by the bedside table. I kept his diary open on his desk. I set the table for two. But not once did I go back to Bali. I stayed static in England until it was my time to join my love on a late March morning, where I lay and I waited.