A handwritten note on my desk you gave me eight years ago for my birthday makes me feel you are still by my side. But you’re not here nor anywhere in this world. You ended the exciting way of your life silently and peacefully. I had liked to be with you at that very moment, but you chose to go away when I wasn’t in the room where it happened. I couldn’t cry. My eyes had no more tears. They were wide open in surprise, but my heart was broken, and it hurt. It still hurts today, three years after.
Where are you? I go to the cemetery with fresh flowers, to talk to you and pray. But I know that you are somewhere full of light from which you can be close to me. Because I feel you. Understanding my fears like before and inspiring words of wisdom when I need them. But I can’t reach you to contemplate once more your joyful eyes.