ghoti_mhic_uait

It's not snowing. Does the weather no longer care about Chris?

Five years on, and the sun is shining, it's like another early spring day. Where is the snow?

I still can feel his touch, I still remember. I am not likely to forget.

I remember the sound of his voice, and the feel of him. I remember the way he looked, bending over me.

I will not forget. I love(d) him, and he loved me, and I will not forget.

There are times when I cry, the last time I heard In Paradisium I had to hold my breath to stop from crying (because he wanted me to sing it on his grave, but he is not there, he is not there. I sang it on the bridge, and passers by stared at me, singing and weeping, but it had to be done, because I promised.)

I hear the piano played, echoes of him - he'd always play the piano instead of breakfast, he'd put it like that. "Do you want some breakfast, Chris?" "Yeah sure" "What will you have?" "I'll just play the piano"

The words, his phrases, come back to me in tumbling laughing whirls of tears.

I miss him, but I will not forget.

He was beautiful.