Those damn eyes. Every night I let my head hit the pillow, your eyes keep me awake. Instead of drifting off into dreamland, I see those damn eyes. They're a dewy October morning, more gray than blue. When you were upset, I could tell; those damn eyes were dark and stormy. In times of happiness, those damn eyes sparkled a deep ocean blue.
Remember that day we spent in your father's orchard? Beneath the willow by the lake, we lay on a blanket and watched the clouds pass overhead. That was the first time I saw those damn eyes cry. Silent tears fell from your stormy gray eyes when I told you I was sick. You pulled me close, holding me while I sobbed uncontrollably. Those damn eyes were what kept me fighting through all the chemo and radiation, through the struggles and the pain. When the doctor told me we had won our fight, for a second time I watched tears spill from your eyes. This time, those damn eyes were a happy shade of ocean blue.
The summer of '92 is by far my favorite ever. I walked in a beautiful white dress down a long aisle, not a hair on my bald head but you still looked at me with those damn eyes like I was the most gorgeous woman to walk the face of this Earth.
My most cherished memory? The day I peed on that stick.
You were suppossed to be at work but something came over you and you decided to take the rest of the day off. When you came looking for me, you opened the bathroom door thinking I was in the tub and were taken by surprise when you found me bent over looking at my pee stream. Those damn eyes of yours were sparkling with amusement and utter bewilderment. That's when you saw the box on the counter and I set the pee covered stick on top of it. At this point I was speechless. I was suppossed to know whether or not we were going to have a baby before I thought of how to tell you. We stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say. Then you looked down and saw that blue plus sign, those damn eyes of yours caught me off guard with their look of excitement.
It was eight months later when we were rushing to the emergency room. Crossing an intersection, you looked over at me, a lopsided grin on your face and those damn eyes full of anticipation. That's why you didn't see it coming. The headlights coming nearer or the roar of a semi's engine before it slams into us. Those damn eyes didn't see it coming because they were looking at me instead of looking out for exhausted, half drunk truck drivers running red lights.

You were suppossed to have met your daughter, I wish you could have at least. She has those damn eyes of yours. Every time I look into her face, it's almost too much to bear. Each time she laughs, I want to break down and cry because it sounds just like yours.

A year later, I hold her as we stand beneath an umbrella in the pouring rain. Her birthday is written on your gravestone. My heart is under the freshly grown grass with you but my anger bubbles above the surface with me. I was the one with a death sentence. We were suppossed to grow old together. Have three more children and teach them right from wrong. Those damn eyes of your were suppossed to be the only constant thing about you when we sat in rocking chairs at a hundred.
Now, every night I lay down on your side of the bed and those damn eyes of yours keep me awake.