Do you remember the first time I saw you?

I do.

It was a familiar recognition, nothing in terms of physicality but everything of soul. It was as if something inside me whispered, “Oh, there you are.” It was the first time I felt an energy that I was certain I had known before. How happy we were to have been “reunited.”

Did I show you—every second that we spent together—how much I loved you? God, I hope I did.

I hope every conversation we had, every laugh we shared, every kiss, was a keepsake that you took with you on your next adventure.

We spoke of death. How flippant those conversations are in the moment, and when you look back, you are struck by an eery feeling—was that conversation the workings of fate?

You laughed when you said, “When I die, I don’t want anyone to mourn me. People must celebrate. I’m moving to the next level. I truly believe this is my last life here.” You had such a cheeky expression—like you knew something I didn’t.

There are moments since you’ve been gone that I swear I can still feel you.

I like to believe that you did go to the next level, that your time here had come to an end, and that your soul was needed in service of something else—something greater. Your soul was too old for this plane.

I did celebrate you.

I howled at the moon, cursing your name, and shouted to the stars that you had left me too soon, but who am I to stand in the way of divine will? You wouldn’t have wanted that. So instead, I poured a glass of wine, our favorite. I sat outside in the summer heat and dug my toes into the soil, and I said, “Cheers, creature of wild, I fucking love you.”

I couldn’t keep the tears back. I tried. You were always ragging on me about how easy my tears flowed, and you were also always the first to wipe them away. Only this time, I let them flow and tasted the salty sting on my lips.

I played our song. I like to think you were there for it. As the night drew on, nights we would reserve for each other, I put on that sweet sound of Janis Joplin:

One of these mornings,

You’re gonna rise, rise up singing,

You’re gonna spread your wings,

Child, and take, take to the sky,

Lord, the sky.

Did you spread your wings and fly, my sweet love? Did you take to the sky?

God, I hope you’re singing somewhere.

You were a special kind of magic when you sang, when you danced, when you loved with such trust and beauty.

I hope you know how deeply I loved you, how you made each moment we shared something I will never forget.

You’re a tattoo on my heart, my love.

You taught me to be present because each and every moment is never promised. It’s a blessing, it’s a gift, and it’s fleeting.

I basked for a short time in the light of your love, and I am forever grateful to you. I think you took a part of me with you; keep it safe, okay? I’ll be coming for it when we meet again.

~