And I cried.
I couldn’t stop thinking of the good times we had.
The good talks.
The support and care she gave me.
The attachment I had developed.
I didn’t think that time would come this soon, but we had a good year.
I wanted to tell her so much more.
I wanted to experience so much more so that I could share them with her.
I wanted to see so much more to show them to her.
I wanted to be the eyes of the world for all that she couldn’t see.
I just spoke with her two weeks ago.
It was a Monday and it was her birthday. I’m so glad I got the last chance to talk to her.
I should have visited her in the hospital the very next day I found out.
That’s what I should have done.
I should have visited her before her surgery.
I should have visited her after her surgery.
She wasn’t supposed to go like this. At least not this early.
I looked forward to seeing her.
She looked forward to seeing me.
She told me so.
She said that it was nice to have someone to talk to, and that meant a lot to me.
It meant a lot that she felt like she could talk to me.
There was still so much more that I wanted to know about her.
So much more that I wanted to talk about.
So much more that I wanted to do for her.
I hope that she’s not suffering anymore.
I hope that she can walk and can breathe freely.
I hope that she can climb the stairs like she used to.
I hope that she’s well.
I hope that she finds her Little Love.
I hope she rests easy.
I hope she looks over me.
I hope she can see me, hear me.
I hope she sees the impact that she has made in people’s lives.
I hope she finds her friends.
I keep thinking, what if we agreed to meet a day before.
What if we arranged the time to be earlier; an hour, or even half an hour.
Would she still be here?