I remember watching in the mornings as the sunlight would creep in through the window and cut a strip of blazing white across the tanned skin of her forehead and right cheek, and glow red in her brown-streaked hair. I remember how very at peace - at last - she used to look, her chest barely rising as she breathed. And sometimes I'd reach down and brush a stray wisp of hair from her cheek.
I remember how very, very sad I used to feel, watching her as she slept.
And just before I left for work I'd lean over and kiss her lightly on the forehead, and most times she wouldn't stir, but sometimes she'd move a little and let out the faintest of squeaks.
And that filled my heart with sadness too.
She pulled me in closer and said, hey... don't think about it anymore; focus on the good times. There were good times... right?
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