Epilogue
Here I am again, standing beneath this cherry blossom tree, looking up at the branches dancing quietly against the sky.
When I was young, trees like these did not grow here. They belonged to distant places, to stories and eastern dramas you used to watch late into the night.
I wonder if you can see them now.
If you could, I wish I could show you this scenery. I know you would love it. I can almost imagine your smile—the way your eyes would light up, the little laugh that always followed, and that voice I still find myself listening for in the quiet.
I hope your happy up there. I wonder if you still look down at me with the same love you once had.
Or perhaps you look at me with disgust.
I could accept the latter.
What I cannot seem to let go of is the sound of your voice, your hug and the warm presence you give.
The petals are falling now, one by one, carried away by the wind as if the tree itself is letting go of something it has held for too long.
I wish you were here to see this.
For now, I will keep looking up.
I don’t know how much time life will give me, please wait for me a little bit more.
Until then, I will live with the memories we had.
