She still found herself talking to him, even though he wasn’t there anymore.
She gave up coffee.
It brought up too many memories.
She didn’t try to justify or stretch the truth as she started marking inquiries and preparations.
She didn’t even pretend to herself that any of this could be imagined to be in keeping with any of those lofty ideals, prime directives.
This was deeper.
She could have accepted the loss of her own life as a cost,
But she couldn’t live with a version of success that left her living with him gone.
It wasn’t the first time she discovered she was in love.
It wasn’t even the first time she realized she was in love with him.
She knew she had fallen in love with him all those years before.
She knew she’d still loved him after they’d both lost hope.
But it was kneeling over his grave once again, realizing this place felt more like home than any other at this point, that she realized this wasn’t going to be like it had been with previous lovers
She was in love with him and it didn’t matter how many years passed with him dead and gone,
That wasn’t going to fade or soften.
She wasn’t going to move on.
©evangeline
E