When I remember you, I begin to tear up. I read that story over and over again, reliving the horror, the pain that will be the recurring trope forever. We will laugh and we will rejoice, and maybe for a time, we will forget, but then we remember that you left a hole in our world, a heart-shaped love hole of the beauty that you were, that you still are.
When I remember you, I begin to tear up. I reach to the depth of my heart and I seek that God-man, the one I learnt to hold on to when I was in my teens, when I thought that love could only be achieved through proving who I was to society, showing them that I could be as they want me to be, and I remember your own struggles, and how I wish, deeply wish that I had known you, walked with you some more.
When I remember you, I begin to tear up. I revisit the memories, the recordings, the videos and the stories, I remember the walk when you reached to hold my hand and hug me to your heart, to remind me that we can walk with humans only so far, but that there’s one who can take us even farther, through the valley of the shadow of death, to a plain of peace, where streams make glad the city of God.
When I remember you, I begin to tear up. I know that I am but a fickle light, blurring slowly against the vastness of eternity, where sometimes my strength fails, and the desire to join you grows stronger, yet the call doesn’t come, and his strength innervates me, pushing me to keep moving forward, to know that my task is not yet done, that my journey is still on, and he still walks with me.
When I remember you, I begin to tear up. I begin to write because I know no one will understand, perhaps a few, but even then it will not matter, because this is a love letter to you, because when the ink ends and the tears dry up, when the wind stops whistling and the rain falling, when I smell color and dance under the shadow of your wings, then I will be finally home, and I will see you again.