For Lucy

by Jewel E. Ann

I no longer make her smile. That feels like its own death I would grieve for eternity.

I loved her. I loved being young and dumb with her. I loved that we had our whole lives ahead of us. And I loved that everything I felt about her and life with her in it started with those two words … I love.

I will welcome every new day and love all the new memories we make, but I don’t want to forget how we got here. Even if parts of the journey have been really painful.”

It’s never been me holding her back. It’s never been my hands keeping her hostage. I’ve always loved her with open arms. My love has never been forced. It’s always been free. She’s the one who cannot walk away. And she knows she needs me to take the blame for that too. So I do. Because that’s how I love her.

it felt like we were our own elemental force. We didn’t just fall in love, we collided until our souls tangled, until we knew any attempt to live without each other would leave us crippled.

“When you stop and make the sun do everything, it’s hard to not feel the cold.

You had to keep going. Keep moving. You had to help yourself. And that’s the hard thing to remember … we can’t ask too much … even of the sun.”

“Well, I’m sorry. It’s not your choice. And it’s not even my choice. I don’t wake up every morning and spend an hour practicing loving you like taking a morning jog. It’s automatic. It’s like my heart beating. I don’t think about it. So maybe when I die and other things cease … like the beating of my heart … then maybe you’ll be set free of my love.

Never is a strong word. It’s absolute. It’s all encompassing. And it’s nearly impossible to say with any truth. Never is the embodiment of the unimaginable. So is always. There is nothing absolute about our lives. Who we are lies in the space between always and never.

We forgive other people for our own sense of sanity and peace.