I haven't been able to write anything. To write about it would make it more real. I prefer to sleep to make it less real. In my dreams, he is alive again. Everyone can see him and touch him - I keep asking people to do it. Last night I asked him myself if I could touch him, and he considered it, with a beatific smile, his beatific smile, no one else's, and walked away. How I long for another hug! How I long for another smile. I sleep to see his beauty again, to see his happiness, long gone from this earth, back now in my dreams.
So the prompt is skater. He was a skater first. His own dreams were to become healthy enough again to sk8te again someday. He prayed to his god, Allah, daily for his strength to return. Strength to believe fully, strength to live fully, strength to skate again, his first love.
No, I was his first love. And I was his last love. His last word was "Mom" which he whispered over and over again while he lay dying in my arms. My last words to him, were, over and over again, I love you. I have that to hold onto now.
This is my entry to 
