My First Love died last night at 6.15pm.
I woke yesterday morning knowing that I had one last task to perform for him, before the end.
So I settled down beside him and I told him our story.
I started at the beginning. A very good place to start.
We drifted in and out of each other’s lives for over 20 years before I came here.
It was a mess. I was a mess.
There were tears. Of course.
We made a plan to be together.
And I gave up all that was good and safe and secure for the madness that was my First Love.
And here we were, 12 years later.
I told him that it was time for him to go and for me to move on.
That there would never be another man for me, because he was The One.
That now it was time for him to let me go, time for him to let go of life and leave me.
That I would be fine.
And he must be at peace now.
I held him and stroked his forehead and told him to be at peace now, be at peace.
He seemed to fall asleep.
The day passed.
It was time for me to head home.
I decided to play the song one more time, as I gathered my things ready to go.
And it wasn’t.
That was yesterday.
Today I began the hideous process of administration and sifting through his things.
But you know what? It doesn’t matter anymore.
We had 12 good years together and now... now he is gone.
Let’s remember the good times. Because what else can we do now?
Be at peace, FL.