I was a teenager then. I believed in love. My heart was so big I look past the exterior and the extra curricular. When it was just you and I the moonlight paved a path that led us to eternity. We traveled until dawn. Distractions glowed with the kiss of the sun pulling us apart. I let go of your hand so we both could experience something new. I didnt mind missing you. I didn't mind waiting. I didn't mind watching you from afar because I always knew you would come back.

Its 1am. Thinking back, I wonder if I should have sat with him. It was the end our first European trip together. I wanted to upgrage my view, my seat, the service and enjoy the benefits of working hard. Is it better to be the ant who stored up for a rainy day? What if your life stopped days, weeks or even years before the rainy day. Then what? Was all your hard work pointless? Maybe thats why some communities celebrate your death with a Homecoming. Because thats where your reward is. You may not have experienced worldly pleasures but your servitude in dedication, honor and understanding will be given to you in the afterlife. Your belief in hope alone was intoxicating. It gave me double vision, where I could see twice as far into my future with you. I started to see forever. I started to see us. But where did I go? Ive lost sight of myself. I wanted to feel alive. I wanted to enjoy luxury, to indulge but not tooverdose. I saw nothing wrong with it. So for that last leg of our trip you watched me feast on champagne, laydown flat and watch endless movies from behind the curtain.

September 2014. He asked me to marry him. I accepted. Then he passed away the next day.

Three months of uncontrolled crying. I swear I could feel my brain shut down, synaptic nerves blunted, neurotransmitters drained, vessels tighten, blood stagnate and pieces of my heart die from ischemia.

September 2016. I paid him a visit. I was mad, happy and lost. Words didnt make sense so for an hour I took photos in front of his grave.

Four months later I ran to the Employee Assistance Program (EAP) for help. The Consultant group gave me 3 free sessions as if only the sash were ripped off Cinderellas dress. There was no fairy godmother. Only a person designated to encourage growth.  . . Per my psychologist writing can stimulate and rejuvenate.