It's been a year since my boyfriend passed away and I would like to share my story to you. It was written by my best friend and dedicated it to me.
May he rest in peace...
He left her cold and forlorn.
He left her lost without direction.
He left her broken and spent.
He left her. He left her. He left her.
She stood there.
Staring at his face when they undid the covers.
He looked so wrong, so different.
Just a face emotionless and cold.
"That wasn't him," she remembered.
He was warm and full of joy, of laughter and of song...
Then the accident took him away... from her.
It took her soul when he died.
She lost a part of herself, she lost her confidante and her will to live.
All she had left were photographs, moments and memories.
Photographs that captured only the moment, not a lifetime.
Moments that could only say so much.
And memories that would fade away along with time.
None of it could replace him, his laughter, his person.
If she could do it all again, she would.
She would stare into the distant sky, remembering, recalling.
Yet all of it seemed so distant, like it was a lifetime ago.
There, yet not there.
She could still see him at times, pulling faces he was well-known for.
She could hear his voice, scolding her as was his way to show her how much he cared.
She could still feel the last hug he gave her.
So brief yet meant so, so much.
Through all the pain, the tears, she knew that she must move on.
He wouldn't want to see her this way.
He would want to hear her laughter, touch her smile, feel her joy.
But not yet. Not yet.
The loss was still too new, too raw.
She would move on. Someday... somehow. But not yet.. Not today..