Her Name On Google

 I searched her name on Google.  It's been a few years since we lost her and many more years since we last spoke, but there was a time when I said I loved her, a time when I said I wanted to be with her forever.

I don't know what the policy for Facebook is for people who are no longer alive.  Her account is still there.  Eleven friends, nine are mutual.  That doesn't seem right.  I don't know anyone who didn't love her.  By the end, I had pretty good reasons not to love her, but I still did.  

It doesn't seem right.  A life, any life, should leave more of an impression on the world.  Her life, even just her smile, touched so many people, but when those of us who remembered it are gone, there will be nothing left.  

I don't know how to fix this.  When she was alive, I tried.  Sometimes I tried really, really hard, but whatever it was that tortured her just wouldn't move.  Most people never knew this about her.  Most people thought she was forever happy and forever carefree.  That wasn't the truth.  

I can't say something crazy like "She was the only one I ever loved" because that's just not true.  I loved as deeply as I could and as often as I could.  She wasn't the only one, but she was a very, very important one, but I was never able to make things better for her for more than just a few days.  I was pretty strong, but her demons were a lot stronger, and I'm honestly really bothered by that.  

My gift, it seems, isn't being strong or leading fearlessly.  My gift is muddling words together in a way that means something sometimes.  That's kind of an ironic joke because I was born with a disease that should have made words my enemy.  

Maybe one day, I can put words together that make a better monument to her life.  I want to do it in a way that I don't have to say her name because then people will say, "What happened to her?" and I don't want to get into that.  That's not the point.  What I want is something that makes people feel like they felt when she was around, when she was alive.  I'd like for that to be what the world remembers.

A lot of people carry really broken things inside of them.  Sometimes you can see it, and sometimes you can't.  It doesn't define them.  It doesn't sum up their existence in this world.  

Her smile was the most powerful thing I ever saw.  I would have done anything to see it.  I'd do anything to see it again.  Part of me can only say I'm sorry.  I'm sorry for not coming back for her.  I'm sorry for not being there in the end.  I'm sorry for not ever making it any better.  

One day, I'll write something, and even though I won't say her name, people will read it and say, "Wow, I really wish I had known her."  That's not enough, but I think that's something I can do.