Four

by 7

Today, she should be celebrating her 18th year. Today, she should be in her charming purple dress, with a waving hand and a smiling face. She should be welcomed with a warm applause and lovely greetings. She should be receiving gifts of passion and chocolates of dreams. Tonight, she should be dancing with eighteen significant men. She should be hugging friends, families, and the best of people she ever had. There should be a lit candle–right in the middle of her cake–to be blown away sooner. Because, actually, this is her day. There are lots and tons of other ladies who own this day, nevertheless, it’s hers too. This is her time and a somehow indescribable moment.

But she’s not here anymore. Not within sight any longer. I cannot hug her, nor kiss her cheek. And say happy birthday and that I love you in ways you can’t imagine.

All I can say is that I miss you, and the way your hair feels every time you ask me to braid it. I miss you and your crazy laugh. I miss you and your dreams and your sweet strong voice and moves and curves in dancing. And how you made me smile and just love the life we have. I miss you.

Thank you for everything. Thank you. You meant something for me. You truly did, and will ever be. Because even if we’re miles and miles and miles apart, even if we’re lots of clouds and shades of space separated, even if I cannot see nor hear your voice, you are in place deep within my heart. You are a part of my memories and dreams. Happy birthday Pat.

Saranghae.

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