I departed this world nearly nine years ago. Yet, Im not writing to share tales of the afterlife, but to recount my own story. The story of my great love. And to say that love does not die. Not in this world, nor in the next. Not even should one try to put an end to it, not even if you wish it so. Love endures. Always.
We met on the thirty-first of December, many years ago. I had been preparing to spend New Years Eve with my wife at the home of old friends. My life before she appeared felt rather hollowso meaningless at times that Id often ask myself, What am I living for? My work, it satisfied me, yes, and I liked what I did. A family of my own? I yearned for children, but I was never so blessed. Now, looking back, I realise the purpose of my life was to wait for that fateful meeting. I can hardly describe her, for no words would help you truly see her as she was. Every letter, every line of this memory is steeped with love for her. For every eyelash that fell from her sorrowful eyes, for every tear, I would have given my all.
So, it was the thirty-first of December. I understood at once that I was lost. Had she come alone, I would have cast aside my pride, and approached her without hesitationthough my wife was there beside me. But she wasnt alone; my closest friend was at her side. They had only known each other for a few weeks, yet he had spoken of her often and with such intrigue. Now, here she was, in front of me.
When midnight struck and the toasts had been made, I slipped away to the window. My breath fogged the glass and, gently, I wrote, LOVE upon it. I took a step back, and as I watched, the word faded away. There followed more laughter, more toasts. An hour later, I returned to the window. Again, my breath misted the paneand there on the fading glass I saw it: YOURS. My legs nearly gave way; for a moment, I couldnt breathe.
Love comes only once, and that, I think, one knows instantly. Everything before that day felt like tinsel, like a fevered dream. There are so many words for what I felt, yet my life began truly on that New Years Evefor I could see in her eyes that this was the beginning for her, too.
On the second of January, we moved into a small inn together, already dreaming of a little home of our own. We made a habit of leaving notes for each other on the windows. Id write, You are my dream. She would reply, Just dont wake up. Our most secret wishes, we left on window glass in the inn, in the car, even at friends houses.
We were together for two months, no more. Then my time here ended. Now, I am only able to visit her in her sleep. I sit at her bedside, breathing in her scent. I cannot weepI never learnt howbut the ache I feel is deep, not of the body, but of the soul. For all these eight years, she has spent every New Year alone. She sits by the window, pours herself a glass of champagne, and weeps. I know, too, that she still writes me messages on the panes each day. Yet, I can no longer read them, for my breath does not mist the glass anymore.
Last New Years was unlike any other. I wish not to divulge the secrets that lie beyond, but I will say this: I was granted one final wish. All I wanted was to see her last message. When she finally drifted into sleep, I sat for a long while by her side, stroking her hair, kissing her hands. Then, at last, I went to the window. Somehow, I knew I would be able to see itand there it was, waiting for me: LET GO.
This coming New Year will be the last she spends alone. I was granted my parting wish in exchange for never returning to her side again, never seeing her again. On that New Years night, when midnight tolls and the world celebrates and all the universe holds its breath for the very first moment of the new year, she will pour herself a glass of champagne, walk to the window, and there, written clearly on the glass, she will see: I LET YOU GO.She will stand in silence, fingertips tracing the ghost of my words, as if she can feel my warmth there. The quiet will settle, vast and full, and the citys distant fireworks will scatter in the night outside. A weight will finally lift from her chest. Shell close her eyes, smile softly through tears, and whisper into the darkness, Thank you. I loved you. I always will. And as the old year slips away and the new one dawns, she will step from the windownot empty, but whole once more, ready at last to live, and to love anew.
