“That you would learn your life could begin while I was still alive.”
She looked down, then reached for my hand.
I let her take it.
We blew out the candles together.
The room went dark for one breath before everyone laughed and the lights came back on.
For thirty years, I had believed my promise to an eight-year-old girl meant I would never leave her.
At seventy-two, I finally understood the fuller promise.
I could stay.
I could love her.
And I could still refuse to disappear so she could feel visible.
