Resonate

It was always his hand and hers, as it always would be. Intertwined souls attached to their homes. Her sandy locks turned golden whenever summer came, and he would always touch the small of her back, his fingers resting on the ends of her hair. A laugh more viscous than honey poured from her peach lips, which only made the grin she fell in love with grow upon his. Once in her room, overlooking the cherry blossom, she gazed at the stars wondering about life. How could she deserve this? This life full of walks and love, writing and music, learning and laughter, how could she deserve even the slightest bit of these pleasantries? As the stars twinkled above her haven, her phone sung with joy as it read, “goodnight sweetheart, forever and always.”

It was always his hand and hers, as it always would be. Her fingers shook almost as hard as her voice as she pleaded to her love. “I’m sick, don’t you see.” And he held her hand tighter, afraid to let go. His hand brushed the small of her back as he spun her around on her favorite path, twirling and twirling, oh how she danced, until she gave way to that infectious laugh. Her tears painted a picture more gruesome than Van Gogh, and she cried in his arms that night until he started too. Over his masculine shoulder, she looked up at the stars, wondering what she did to deserve this life. A boy who loves her, on the brink of death, a sky so generous to give her the stars. This path to walk on and his arms to hold, what did she do to deserve this? And as she cried on, he stroked her almost-golden hair, whispering, ”Goodnight sweetheart, forever and always”

It was always his hand in hers, but now his rested solemnly by his side. A tux lie taut on his broad shoulders as he walked down the quiet church aisle. At the end, laying under a picturesque stain glass lie his one true love, but she was lying, not standing, as he has pictured her standing at the end of this aisle for as long as he could remember. He wept not of sorrow, nor grief. He wept out of beatitude, for God was now blessed with her sweet, sweet laugh. He wept even harder when he asked what he did to deserve this life, love ripped from his tightest grasp, suffering witnessed by his two weary eyes. And then he stopped. And he smiled. And he looked up through the window at the stars thinking what he did to deserve this life, to have experienced true happiness with a girl whom he adored, and to realize that life is the most beautiful thing imaginable. Her legacy would resonate throughout the universe and back again, touching each soul who gazed at her stars. The church was now empty now that night had set in, and he gravely strode up to her heaven of silk. He kissed her chilled forehead, and grabbed her fragile hand, whispering,

Goodnight sweetheart, forever and always.