Once in your life, if you’re lucky, someone comes along and changes your life in such a way you are never the same. When you find yourself consumed by fond thoughts as you recall loving kindness bestowed without expectation, perhaps one might call it love. I know love. I know familial love and the kind of love that drives me to be a fierce defender of those I call friend. The whimsical Jane Austen-esque daydreaming individual who is hopelessly in love with being in love did not know love – until him. The beauty of love is its purity. It exists in the unfilled spaces. Its fluidity ebbs and flows, waxes and wanes, but is always present. He taught me love’s truest meaning.
Today is a difficult day. It forces me to acknowledge that which I never care to admit, you are gone. My learning of your transition replays constantly in my mind as my heart relives the devastation handed me by those life-shattering words – “…he passed away.” I feel as though the universe stole time from us. We had plans, things we were working towards together. I struggle. No days pass without conversation between us. Still, after all these years, a week barely goes by without a river of tears. Somehow, your physical presence being ripped away from me has managed to tear my own life force. ‘What would he say’, ‘Talk to me.’ ‘What do I do now?’ ‘Come back.’
I close my eyes and feel your energy. Though different, I know it is you. Ironically, that which shattered me is the only thing preventing my million little pieces from scattering across the winds. I acknowledge you. I love you. Through time, space, the old and new ages to come, I remember you.