A Little Too Much

A/N: This is for Iggy's Musical Challenge contest. The song is: Better Dig Two by The Band Perry.

“A young lady left this letter for you sir. Right after you left office yesterday,”

The assistant said to the funeral director after knocking on his door and being allowed in.

“Thank you, Marla.” he said and took the letter. Once he saw who it was from he closed his eyes slowly, took a deep breath and opened it. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but he decided to respect whatever her last wishes were. He often got letter’s like this and he usually listened to them.

                                                                         ***

Dear Mr. Grayson,

I remember I told him we’d never part. We’d never be apart, our hands, our bodies, our lips, our hearts. Always together, never apart. It was something that I continuously told him, both burning it into his mind as well as mine. Maybe I was desperate it seemed, or I was too clutch-y and touchy, but it wasn't so. He was the only one who completed me, he was the only one who knew me, and in more ways than one, he was the only one who would never leave me. Who could never leave me, we were just too close. We were one before we even got married, one from the moment when he saw me and smiled his soft smile, kind and accepting. We were together from the first time he made me laugh at a silly joke that I still remember like he just told it. We were one from the day that he accidentally tripped me over and then caught me right after. I loved him from the day he told me I was beautiful, not because he thought I was beautiful, but because I wasn't wearing any makeup sitting on my kitchen table in my PJ’s and my hair messy, and he said it in the most endearing way it was as if he told me he loved me. And I knew then I would have said “I love you too.”

We were connected. When he laughed, I laughed. When he moved, I moved. When he danced, I danced. When he looked, I looked.

And when I cried, he cried.

There was that time when my father died and I couldn't breathe. I felt like my life was over; we were both only sixteen. My dad was a wise man, and a close companion to me. While my mother was busy trying to get me to be like everyone else, my father decided to be by my side and just let me be who I was, who I am. He told me to be strong, but he was now gone, my pillar, my rock, he left me. I was so depressed, my mind only played and replayed the memories we had together. I even pushed my only love away. I told him I didn't want to see him, I told him he meant nothing to me. I lied. I needed him so badly and he knew it, he came to my house everyday and asked to see me. I refused to see him, I told my mother I was done with men as a whole. I was done with them, because he’d leave too, when he died. I couldn't handle it, we were already so close. I was ready to be with him for the rest of my life, and the thought that death could cause us to part was ripping at my heart.

After a week of avoiding him, my mother was getting tired, she told him to wait and she’d go get him. I’ve never yelled so hard at my mother, I told her to get out of my face and my room, and even my life, I blamed her for my father’s death, for the fact that he couldn't get the transplant. I told her she could go rot for all I cared. She slapped me before I could go farther, then told him he could come up and see me, she told him to just be careful, that I was going crazy. I lunged at her not even trying to control myself hitting and kicking her like a child only to be pried away by strong hands. My vision was blurred with the tears that were streaming down my eyes, and my heart was beating out of my chest, yet I could hear my mother’s muffled sobs. I wasn't thinking. Anguish and remorse washed over me and I opened my mouth to apologize when I was pulled into my room and set on my bed.

“What the heck were you thinking?!” he was serious and actually raised his voice at me for the first time.

“I wasn't thinking.” I told him quietly. He wrapped his arms around me but I shrugged them off. “What do you want from me?! Why are you here?! I don’t want anything to do with you right now.”

“I don’t care.” he told me. He didn't reach for me again but he stared at me, his eyes locked with mine and he wouldn't look away, so I couldn't.

“You don’t care?” I finally asked, staying on the other side of the room.

“I don’t care if you don’t want anything to do with me, I don’t care if you hate me, I don’t care if you went all violent on me as you did with your mom. I don’t care if you hurt me, but I want to be here for you.” My tears caught in my throat for a moment before streaming down my eyes.

“But you’ll just leave me.” this was said in a whisper as I walked over to him and sat next to him allowing him to wrap his arms around me. I could see the tears in his eyes, the understanding he had allowed him to mirror my pain, my fears, my sorrow.

“I won’t leave you.” he said confidently. I tried to make him promise it. I asked him again and again, but he would just tell me he wouldn't leave me. I didn't pry for at the time I just needed to trust him. I even forgot all about death, all about the one thing that separates people whether or not they want to be separated. I put it in the back of my mind and just allowed him to hold me, just letting myself enjoy being with him while I could, spending time with him. I didn't know anything like contentment before him, but that moment, knowing he loved me and at least he didn't want to leave me made me so content. I fell asleep in his arms.

I promised him something that day, and then the day that we got married, I promised him I would never leave him. I started telling him since our wedding day and never stopped, I told him we’d never part, I’d be sure of it, I’d make sure. Even if it meant I would die with him. He’d look at me like I was crazy and tell me he would be there for me even after he died, should that happen, and that I should never kill myself for him. But I never answered him, I never agreed. I never thought he could ever die before me, so I knew I’d have plenty of time. Time to wither away along with him. When I was thirty and I saw he had some white hairs, I painted some of my hairs white, I wanted to travel each step of our aging process together. I didn't want us to part in any way and anyhow. I wanted it to be a fairy-tale. And to be honest, to be frankly honest it felt like a fairy-tale for a very long time.

Yes we argued, I argued with him a lot and he argued with me a lot but we always found a way to agree, to make up. In the end all we wanted was to be with each other, nothing else mattered. My favorite of our nights just “being” was when we went to a park at midnight and brought ice cream from home, we just sat on a park bench ate our ice cream with whipped cream toppings and the other extra topping’s we brought. We didn't say anything for a long time, our right hands were linked to each other while our other hands we used to eat the ice cream. I looked so gross trying to eat ice cream with one hand and every time he’d look at me he’d try not to laugh. Then I’d make a funny face and he’d laugh uncontrollably and cause me to laugh at him. The cycle continued for a while and it was so wonderful seeing him laugh. We didn't communicate with words that entire night, and we stayed out the entire night. We watched the sunrise together our right hands still attached. After watching the sunrise we went home and slept practically the whole day. It was just one of those memorable nights, when we were a bit younger. One that I could never forget.

Now he’s in a coma. A coma, and I’m being told to prepare his death. How? How could they expect me to be able to arrange the death of someone who hasn't even died yet? But the doctors haven’t been giving me a lot of reasons to be optimistic, they've told me that it’s most likely he’s not going to make it. So that’s why I went to you, a funeral director, asking how I was to go about doing these things. And I couldn't tell you what I really wanted then because my mom was there and she may have objected and yelled and it wouldn't have been productive. But after being given such horrible news yesterday about his heart-condition, I decided that I’d better tell you as soon as possible. Which is the reason why I decided to write this. I've known for a long time that I’d never be able to live without him, and now, now that he’s close to leaving me even though he said he wouldn't, I’m going to have to go with him. I don’t care what people say, I don’t care what they might do, but if he doesn't come back, I won’t either. I don’t want to go in the details of how I plan to kill myself, but since I've already been to discuss his grave and everything, I want you to know I want to be buried with him. Beside him. I don’t want to think about life without him, I don’t want life without him, I only want to be by his side.

I just love him too much, so tell the gravedigger he better dig two graves, both right next to each other. Where we’ll both lay together, forever. Never apart.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

The girl who’s only crutch was loving that man a little too much.