Bella was never one to enjoy pictures. In fact, in the early days of our relationship, the photos we had showed her expertly hiding behind a cereal box, her hands, and at one stage, even a towel that before I had pulled the camera out, had been around her body. She didn’t mind if her body could be seen; it was her face that she didn’t want captured.

I could never understand why.  To me, her face was simply beautiful, with every feature blindingly perfect. Her eyes, which I admit I could never see right into, were classically heartbreaking, a hazel colour that changed to green when she cried, with porcelain skin clear and smooth.   

Even though the pictures had never been satisfactory, I had taken on a habit of staring into the moment captured, as if I was there again.

My fingers were outlining a picture taken three months before you left this world. I couldn’t help stepping back into the past, especially since that’s where my happiest moments were.

You were sitting at our chipped and worn kitchen table, eating porridge and honey. I remember thinking that the honey is as sweet and tasty as you. I only smiled at you, but I didn’t need to say the words. You smiled back, biting on your lip ring.

‘I love you too, baby.’

Another picture, another memory. This time, it’s you in the shower. You hid your face with a sponge; we had bought it in the supermarket down town. I remember scolding you for it. I wanted to see all of you.

‘Bella! Don’t hide your fucking face!’

‘But, Willow! Look at it! The sponge is beautiful....’  She had trailed off on the sentence, but she never did lower the sponge.

‘Bella, do you think I am in love with the fucking sponge?!’

A phone ringing dragged me out of my memories, and as always, I expected it to be you, my beautiful Bella. It never is, of course. It’s usually Ellen, or my mother, wanting to know how I’m coping. I’m not coping; I’ve lost you, and it feels like my whole being is being shred to pieces over and over again. I don’t answer the phone. I don’t want to talk to anyone, and in fact I haven’t left the house in a little over two weeks. I just can’t face the sun shining, when to me, it should be raining.

The answering machine kicks in, and your pre – recorded voice fills the room. I haven’t changed the message yet – every time I go to do it, I seem to find something more important and less heart wrenching to do.

‘Hiya! You’ve gotten Bella and Willows answering machine, and we either don’t want to talk to you, or we are out. Leave your name and number, and maybe we’ll get back to you. Laters and shit!’

She was so beautiful and happy that day. Hearing her voice brings tears to my eyes, but I don’t bother to swipe them away. They’ll just keep coming anyway.

‘Willow? I know you’re there.’ Fuck off mother. ‘Please come to the phone. It’s been weeks Willow. Please? Just talk to me… Bella is gone, Willow. She’s gone, and she isn’t coming back. You need to accept that.’ Accept what, Mother? That the love of my life is gone? That her beautiful smile will never been seen again, and I’ll never be able to hold and kiss her again? No thanks.

‘Willow, tell me you’ll always love me…’

‘Bella, baby, I couldn’t stop if I tried…’

‘Tell me you’ve been happy being with me…’

‘You’ve made me the happiest woman alive.’

‘Promise you’ll move on?’

‘I can’t promise that,’ I had choked out.

I can’t forget about Bella, I just can’t. She was everything to me, my whole fucking world, and now that she is gone, I don’t have a fucking world. I’m no one, and I deserve nothing more.  

Once upon a time, when I still had you, and you were still healthy, I dreamt of all the things a woman in love does; the big house, the beautiful Labrador, the white picket fence – the whole fucking deal. Then you came home one day, and your beautiful skin was paler than usual – almost translucent; you almost glowed. Your eyes weren’t shining anymore and everything about your demeanor seemed damaged, incomplete. Something was missing and before you even said a word, I knew that there was nothing I could do – I was going to have to watch you die – watch your body give up. I wonder if I was so blinded by the love I felt for you, that I let you slip through the cracks. Was it my fault? If I had noticed something wrong, sooner, could I have saved you? Would you be here now?

Even after we had gone to see many other doctors, and you were on medication, you continued to deteriorate before my eyes, and sometimes, most times, I wished I could go with you. I didn’t want to be in this world, without you here with me. I couldn’t bare to watch the light go from your eyes, knowing that every moment for the rest of my life I’d remember exactly how you looked.

The day you finally gave up, I had woken up with that feeling of dread you get sometimes. You know it is a mistake to get out of bed, and that something horrible is going to happen. You know that your going to regret it, and that you should just stay in bed. But you have to crawl out; you have to face whatever it is coming your way.

I knew Bella was going to die that day. I knew that she would finally give up her fight, and that I would never see or touch her again. I knew that her smile would fade, and the light would completely leave her eyes, and I also knew that my soul would go with her. I would be alive, sure. But Bella would have my soul, just like it was always meant to be.

I have nothing now that Bella is gone, and I deserve no more. God gave me Bella, but for some reason wanted my angel all for his self.