the last memory of her was of both of us beneath the willow in each other's arms. Her feet continuously caressed the grass as she stared towards the sea. not a word from her. i could feel she was ready. ready to leave.
i wanted to tell her i knew what she was thinking, that she was ready to dissolve. but i couldn't. i was afraid. was it because i didn't want her to go? or was it because i was afraid that once i'd tell her, she'd be hurt and carry on this painful life not just for me, but everyone?
i don't know, i really don't.
her family buried her in the church she had always loved. she wasn't religious, never. but the beauty the church possessed enthralled her. and just the idea of believing in something got her curious.
i wasn't there, of course. i couldn't. actually, i was barred. barred by her, that is.
she made me promise that i wouldn't attend her funeral. she said she would rather the last memory i have of her was when blood still coursed through her, when she could still speak, and smile... react. that way, she said wistfully, it would be as though she had never died in my mind.
if there was anything that reminded me of her, it was her will. her will was so strong, so... emanating, that she could banish the grief everyone was feeling for her. you could say she was a light, metaphorically speaking. and the light within her overwhelmed the pain everyone experienced.
we all loved her.
i loved her.
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