Her favorite song was Pachelbel's Canon. She always said she was going to play it at her wedding. At our wedding. I never listened to it then. I have listened to it at least a hundred times since.
There are many things that I still remember about her, and I hope that I always remember. Sometimes I think I am forgetting. Well, I know I am forgetting. I suppose that is inevitable. I know that I forget a little more everyday. And that scares me, because the memories are all I have now. And once they are gone... Well, I would rather not think about that.
Her green eyes were full of life. Full of hope. Her view of life and of the world had not been jaded like mine. She saw the good in life. She saw the good in others. She was caring. And compassionate. Many times I can remember her going out of her way for someone else.
She would sing along with the radio when she was driving. She loved the movie, Message In A Bottle. She liked jalopenos on her nachos, and pickled okra on her salad. Her favorite candy was hazelnut chocolates. She always liked to wear socks around the house. Sometimes she even wore them outside. She hardly ever went barefooted. She was born in Germany. Sometimes she could be a bit of a drama queen. It only made me love her more.
Not everyone liked her when they first met her. But everyone liked her eventually. She overflowed with likability. She never tried to be popular. It just happened. She was genuine. She was real. Thougtful. Loyal beyond compare. A friend that anyone would love to have. She placed the utmost value on honesty. I like to think she got a little of that from me. I was proud of her so many times for so many things. But I thought it much more than I said it.
She loved strong and true. She loved the way you are supposed to love. All or nothing. She gave everything she had. Maybe more than anything, she made me feel like I was so much more than I really was. And I think that the way someone makes you feel about yourself is maybe as important as the way you feel about them. She took an interest in my interests. She built me up. I was never more confident and never felt better about myself than when she loved me. I was too foolish then to see that it was not me at all, but her, that made me feel that way. But I am straying here.
Her voice... her voice is indescribable. It is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. One word from her lips and everything else in the world immediately disappeared. We used to sit and talk on the phone until the early morning hours, often until one of us would fall asleep, not wanting to let each other go. Several mornings I can remember waking up and seeing the phone lying beside me on the bed, knowing immediately what had happened, and smiling. It was good to be so in love, to feel like you are a part of each other. Why can't those times last forever? To this day, just the sound of her voice would instantly bring a smile to my face.
Falling asleep on the phone is a memory I thought I had forgotten, but it has just come back to me now while I am writing. Writing is good. Still, I cannot just sit down and write every single memory. They do not come back all at once, just one or two at a time. And even now, I realize that as much as I still remember, I have probably forgotten even more. And it deeply saddens me.
If you saw her, you would see how beautiful she looked. And then the first thing I would tell you is that she is even more beautiful on the inside.
Yesterday was her birthday. Coming home last night, I rolled down the window, put in a CD, turned it up loud, and listened to her favorite song.
"Her favorite song was In My Life. I memorized her every move. I knew her books, her car, her clothes. But I paid no attention to what mattered most..."