When it's Time to Let Go

It’s been too long since you’ve slept. Even longer since you’ve eaten. But none of those basic tasks seem possible when the pit in your stomach turns and twists until it consumes you, either rendering you sick or useless—doubled over in sobbing fits that make breathing nearly impossible.

Now, you’ve finally drifted into a sleep wrought with heaviness. Your body lies twisted in a too soft to let go blanket and a well worn quilt she made you when you finished high school. With it, the message not to forget her. How foolish you were back then. Convinced she would never be gone. The task of forgetting her was laughable. You clutch that quilt as you finally slip into the world of a dream, a million miles away from where your body lies.

Unlike her, you’ll be back to your earthly body in no time. But for now your mind gets to float, free of the hurt that’s pulled it down for so long.

You’re in a field, a cool midnight breeze twisting around you. Flowers, white maybe, dance with the wind, draped in a blanket of brightly glowing stars. It’s safe here, something you innately know. Nothing will harm you, nothing can frighten you here.

It’s peaceful, whatever this place is. So quiet, unlike your mind constantly hounding you with uncertainty and loss while you’re awake. Just the rustling of the field fills your ears and calms your soul.

And from the stars above, a green light descends. First faint, but as it gets closer it shines brighter yet. Not too bright that you have to avert your eyes, but it radiates the space around you with a hue that wraps you in the warmth of one hundred suns.

It’s perfectly transcendent, this sentient light. Yet, while you won’t be able to make sense of it when you wake, right now you know. It’s her. She’s here to offer solace, and relieve you of a sliver of the grief you desperately cling to.

The green light holds your attention, just as it holds your pain, leaving you with a momentary peace. You’re safe here. Just like you were as a child, in her home, and wrapped in her arms. On the couch on a cold winter night cuddled up with a fuzzy blanket on the couch. She’s eating popcorn, because it wouldn’t be movie night without it. A too cheesy to believe love story that somehow always makes you cry, but not as much as her. Her heart has always been the biggest.

If the glowing green in front of you could talk, it would say it’s okay to not let go. Not completely anyway. But you must let go a little, so you can come back to life. There are people who rely on you. People you must dote on, smother in hugs, and make colorful little quilts for.

This is the legacy. This is how she will live on. This is how you’ll continue to feel her love.

After a long while, yet seemingly too short, the green light slowly retreats into the sky, dancing and hopping as it goes.

Your eyes snap open, and for a moment you have the warmth of the light still spreading through your body. Was any of it real? Was everything before it a bad dream? No, as you regain your consciousness you realize it wasn’t.

But now, a little bit of that unbelievable pain has lifted. It’s almost unnoticeable at first. As the sun rises though, you find yourself climbing out of bed, heading down the stairs, and wrapping a child in your arms.