Epilogue

    Lily

    Six Months Later

     Two faces smile up at me, each of them familiar and happy. They’re both smiling, both in love, both the best two people I ever knew.

      I adjust myself on my comforter, my bed squeaking as I do so. I take the framed picture and turn it to show my new grey puppy, who probably doesn’t understand me. I’ve told him this story hundreds of times, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I’ll tell everyone I know, everyone I meet, about the two most amazing people I know; the two people that saved my life.

      “They took this picture on the train tracks,” I tell him, showing him the glass frame. I start into my story, the puppy cocking its head to the side as I talk. Some parts are still hard to tell, but I say them anyways, wanting everyone to know their love story. “He died to save her,” I whisper sadly, remembering hearing the story on the news. “But she didn’t want to live without him. So she gave his heart to me.”

      When Meadow came to me in the hospital, I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t want to. But she insisted, and after a long, heartfelt talk, I couldn’t let it go to waste. Meadow wasn’t going to take it, no matter what anyone would say to her. Grayson wanted her to have it, and if he can’t make her accept it, no one can.

      Behind the frame, stuck under the picture, is a tiny, piece of paper that Meadow gave me. I know what it says, I know the story, and it made me sad to take it.

      “You’re the only person I want to have this,” she said, handing me the frame. “The picture was from Grayson’s room. It was my favorite.”

      There was something different about Meadow. After Grayson passed away, she changed. In some way, I think Grayson was the person who made Meadow so carefree, so happy. And after he left, she was the opposite. The only time I ever saw her smile was when she talked about Grayson.

      “Meadow passed away,” I tell my puppy, letting the frame fall onto the bed. I can never get through this part without crying. “Grayson’s mom told me that she left where Grayson had, not because it was her time, but because she wanted to.” I take a deep breath and stare back at the photo. “I think they’re together now. I know they are.” I turn around on my bed and point out at the window, showing the puppy. “That’s their star,” I tell him. “That’s where they are now.”

      THE END