i-heart-you-you-haunt-me

«I__e never been to a funeral until today. I see dazzling arrangements of red, yellow, and purple flowers with long, green stems. I see a stained-glass window with a white dove, a yellow sun, a blue sky. I see a gold cross, standing tall, shiny, brilliant. And I see black. Black dresses. Black pants. Black shoes. Black bibles. Black is my favorite color. Jackson asked me about it one time.__va, why don__ you like pink? Or yellow? Or blue?_ __ love black,_ I said. __t suits me._ __ suit you,_ he said. I__ not so sure I love black anymore.And then, beyond the flowers, beneath the stained-glass window, beside the cross, I see the white casket. I see red, burning love disappear forever. As we pull away, my eyes stay glued to the casket. It__ proof that sometimes life does not go on. I look around. If tears could bring him back, there__ be enough to bring him back a hundred times. That__ not what I__ thinking. I__ thinking, I hate good-byes. It__ like I was a garden salad with a light vinaigrette, and Jackson was a platter of seafood Cajun pasta. Alone, we were good. Together, we were fantastic.Memories might keep him alive. But they might kill me.»