I had a dream that I was talking to her again. She was alive and happy and smiling. She looked older than I remembered, as if she aged with me, but still just as beautiful.
I realize now that the summer will always take me by surprise. Too many memories are attached to these days. It’s like taking a swig of amaretto, it’s sweet but there’s always a lingering aftertaste. I love the summer, I really do, but I can’t escape the associations.
It hurts still.
But the other day I read something a friend wrote, about how he had found someone who cares about him the way she did and how he had never expected to find that ever again. And I cried a little. Because it made me so happy to see the people around me who were affected by her death, to pick up the pieces and find their way again.
And when I blinked away the forming tears, I whispered quietly to myself,
“Hey, it’s ok.”
And for the first time in a long time, it really was.