Fly.

August 28th. 6:00 p.m.

She knows me. She knows every nook and corner, and I love her for that. She's seen me through everything. And she has held my hand without knowing it. She's free now, free to fly. She's heard every note I've played. She's listened to me crying. Only she knows how much I cry in the middle of the night, when I can't get what I want. Or when I can't be loved. Or when I love. She's heard me laugh and she's seen me laugh. She's looked at me and she knows who I am. For so long, she knows what I've been through. Her eyes are closed now, but I'm sure she can still see me. I hope that she can understand what I'm saying, or what I'm writing. I'm sure now all this will be translated into what she can comprehend. And everything I've said to her, everything I've told her, she'll finally know now. Her eyes are closed, and she's out of her cage, she's in a little basket. She's smiling, I hope. I can't see, but I do hope she's smiling. She knows how much I love her. She knows how much I love her even though I couldn't tell her. I bet she could feel it as well, through the air, and even though she was in a cage, I bet she could feel much more than I could. I bet she wanted to tell me what to do, but couldn't. Well she can tell me now.

She's with God. I know she is. And now she can speak to God.

And I can still speak to her. If I speak into the wind, I know she'll hear. She'll hear me, she'll fly pass me and listen to me, and then she'll smile. I hope.

Rest in Peace.