I do not fear the past. I fear the loss of time to do nice things before the scheduled departure.
The way I give. The way I hesitate. The way I hold on. The way I finally let go. This is the way I love. This is me. I have grown with yearning for her love and longing for the departed. Every parting reminds me of the too soon and too abrupt. So why am I surprised to hold on too tight and way too soon?
What I thought was extinguished is burning inside the very same person shivering from the cold. The flame glows inside of her own beating heart.
And so, perhaps and quite possibly, her love had not ended the way I thought. It continues inside. It lives on. I pick myself up to take a small step forward to light the way.