I reach into my jacket pocket, the neatly rolled sheet of paper rough against my fingertips. I am not sure if it is the cool May winds or if the angst-filled day has finally caught up with me, but my hands tremble visibly as I undo the silk ribbon tied around the scroll. Neatly penned words reveal themselves as I unroll the handmade parchment paper. My last words for you. It took me eight tries to get the paper to be exactly the way I needed it to be, just the right texture, colour and scent. 

As the breeze whips the parchment, my senses are treated to the delicate aroma of patchouli and cedar, yet one more thing that reminds me of you. Unshed tears blur my vision, causing the dark words to dance before my eyes, like ever-elusive nymphs dancing circles around a star-struck child, always appearing to be within reach, but never close enough to touch. The paper floats softly on the light wind, lifted by the currents of the fire beneath it before wafting gently as it loses its fight with gravity. Dark spots appear on the page, spreading outward as the fire starts to consume it from the centre out. 

My gaze lifts to the ocean, to a ship on the horizon, its blazing lights making it appear like a star lost and alone in a serene black velvet sky. The seacraft becomes a grounding beacon for me to focus on as the words dance their way off the page and into my heart. As the vessel starts to disappear from my view, the words to the poem I had rendered to memory on the very night it was written rush out toward it.

Hands warm mine with a gentle touch,

I lift them, touching my lips to each palm in turn.

A wistful smile playing at the corner of my mouth

As I remember...

Your perfume lingers in the room,

Modest, yet exotic; it suits you well.

The fragrance subtle, still it overwhelms me

As I remember...

A wisp of your jet-black hair

Had fallen across your beautiful face.

I brush it back with trembling fingers

As I remember...

Leaning in, I touch my lips to yours.

They are warm and soft,

My breath catches in my chest

As I remember...

I stroke your cheek adoringly,

You look so peaceful, so serene.

Tears threatening to spill

As I remember...

I know that I should leave,

You need your rest... You need your peace,

But I find it hard to let go

As I remember...

Hand clutching yours one last time

Before I reluctantly let go.

I rise from your side,

As I remember...

Tears flowing freely now

As I turn to leave.

I cannot take that first step

As I remember...

I turn to gaze upon your still form,

Desperately needing to burn your image into my mind

Like a tattoo branding my consciousness for all eternity,

So I can remember...

One last slow deep burdened breath

As I wipe my tears and step through the door.

I have to be strong for them,

But I will remember...

As the last of the flames dies, I stand and lift the box back onto the trolley, along with the remaining oil. The walk back up to the house is an easy one, the almost weightless trolley now moving effortlessly up the cobblestone path. My heart feels a thousand times lighter as I return to lock the doors and make my way back to the car with the t-shirt and CD tucked under my arm. One last time, I look in the rear-view mirror at the house you used to call your home, before popping in the CD and setting off on the long drive home.

We never spoke about that day again. David never asked about what had happened on that fateful day, not even years later, after you two got married. It was the one thing none of us ever spoke of again. For that, I am eternally sorry, my friend. The guilt of that one irreversible action haunted you for the rest of your days; I should have helped you through it, and I know that now. Sorry always comes too late.