i remember we roamed our little provincial town on his bike and we stopped by a cemetery at 3am. we sat on a bamboo bench watching a few cars pass by, under the stars on a clear sky. the air was cool so we sat closer together to keep warm. it was so peaceful. it's as if the world stopped turning and that moment of bliss was ours to relish. i had a scheduled flight back to california that afternoon, and despite not getting enough sleep because of our little adventure, he still made the effort to take me on a ride again around town that morning before i left. he also had little quirks that made him so endearing. he loved tiny m&m's and he once sang the chorus of his favorite ballad to persuade me to hand him the m&m bag. most of all, he made people feel loved and special.
this is a devastating loss. i will terribly miss him.
"at some point, it becomes bearable. it turns into something that you can crawl out from under and carry around like a brick in your pocket. and you even forget it for a while. but then you reach in for whatever reason and - there it is. oh right, that. which could be awful - not all the time. it's not that you'd like it exactly, but it's what you've got. so, you carry it around. and it doesn't go away. which is ... fine, actually."
on grief. having gone through a tough time earlier this year, the idea of a parallel universe is a bit comforting. memories, for the most part, help propel us forward.