Pack Up the Moon

by Kristan Higgins

There’s something about being near the ocean that puts your life in perspective. It’s reassuring, that’s what it is.

Grief was a heavy, dark blanket, weighing him down, making the smallest things difficult.

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Once you’d had a love like that, it would be futile to try to replicate it. Everything else would be a hollow imitation.

“Worcester.” She pronounced it “Wistah,” instead of “Wooster” like everyone else in New England, marking her as someone who’d grown up there.

For a year, she had walked him through his grief. For a year, she’d loved him from the Great Beyond, guiding him, getting him out of his own way, making him feel her love, hear her voice. For a year, he had had her even after he’d lost her.

Don’t let me be your life’s tragedy. Let me be one of the best things that ever happened. One of the many best things that ever happened to you. Let our time together be a beautiful, happy time in your life that came to an end, but led to more happiness, more love.

Thank you for our life together. I was so happy. I loved you with all my heart, Joshua Park. I’ll see you again someday, my darling, wonderful husband.