I was glad we had her cremated, because some raw, surreal, animal part of me wanted to steal her away and bring her home with me and never let her go. I had a hard enough time giving her up at the hospital. I couldn’t believe it was the last time I would see her face. I put her pictures in my nightstand and I kissed her every night before I went to bed. My therapist—Bill Williams, who had a name I always snickered over, but Rob said he came highly recommended and so far, he’d been good—said it was all healthy. It was all a part of grieving the loss.

Now her body was nothing but ash and dust, her name a memory engraved on a rose-colored tombstone.

“It better not rain.” I frowned up an errant cloud through tinted windows as Jesse drove the car through the winding paths, rows of headstones on either side.

Rob laughed. “It never rains in California.”

The day we held the memorial had been beautiful too. I could have used some of my dingy, gray Detroit sky that day. I couldn’t believe it had been six months already. It seemed like yesterday. And a million years ago. I had her ashes in a heart-shaped urn at home, but I wanted her to have a headstone too, a marker that said, “I was here.” She had lived, her heart was beating in this world, if just for a moment. For a long time, I didn’t know which was worse, the shock of what had happened, or the sorrow of what never would. We would never see her first step, hear her first word.

Jesse stopped the car and opened the door for us.

I lifted my face to the sunshine as I carried my guitar toward Esther’s grave. The clouds had moved out of the way. The world was bright again.

“Hi baby.” I traced the letters as I sat, cross-legged on one side of her stone, waiting for Rob to situate himself on the other. “Sorry it’s been so long, but Mommy and Daddy have been busy.”

Rob just rubbed his thumb over her name. He didn’t talk to her, not like I did, but I know he thought about her, remembered her.

“Let’s play her song.” I pulled my guitar around front, strumming, making sure it was in tune.

We were on our way to the recording studio, but I’d suggested this little detour first, and Rob had agreed. It just seemed right that Esther heard it first. We’d been busy for months writing two sets of songs—one for Trouble to record for their new album, and another set for the two of us. Rob’s record company had been thrilled when he told them he was doing a solo album, which would include several duets.

With me, of course.

Rob strummed the beginning chords, the sound floating in the afternoon air, a song that always made me cry. I didn’t know how in the world we were going to get through recording it. Our song for Esther—Midnight Light.

Rob sang:

Morning shines through your hair - and I rise - to the sight - of the dawn in your eyes—

You woke my heart in a burst - that first time - all I saw - was a light-flooded night—

Only promises to come - all we had - was everything - between kisses and sighs—

Undressing as we dressed – perfect day - diner breakfast – love like art on the walls—

Knowing that we’ll never die—

Then it was my turn, my eyes on Rob’s, feeling tears slipping down my cheeks, my voice a little husky:

Waking wide in your gaze – without guile – state of grace – small and wild in your arms—

I felt so safe to be free - surrendered heart – frayed desires - wanting only for more—

Unshaven chin brushing my skin – down on my knees -your poetry – a symphony of guitars—

Love deep inside unfolds alive – lightning strikes – thunder roars - bursting my skies like a storm—

Knowing that we’ll never die—

And then it was the two of us, my voice following his in each sad refrain:

Then the hard came – like a hard rain – like a night train – and the hard pain – to watch your light fade—

You watched my light fade – darkening your flame – and your heat was – so far away – and my heart broke—

And your heart broke – and her heart stopped – and my heart stopped – I was helpless - and the night came—

And the night came – and the darkness – it was heartless – and our hearts stopped – and the light died—

And we began to die—

And in the end, it was both of us singing together, our voices lifted in sweet harmony:

Then I found your hand – reaching out in the darkness – and I felt you touch me inside – holding my heart in your hands—

And then I saw your eyes – through the river of blackness – burning flames in the darkness – you were my midnight light—

You are my midnight light – through the pain and the anguish - you cannot be extinguished – you are my midnight light—

You are my midnight light – through the pain and the anguish - you cannot be extinguished – you are my midnight light—

You are my midnight light—

You are my midnight light.

We sang the last few notes, our voices carrying together on the wind. Our gaze met and locked, and I saw all the sadness and love and pain and joy in his eyes. We had loved and lost the world. We had held our own beating heart in our hands for one brief moment.

Rob got to his feet, holding his hand out to me, and I took it, letting him help me up.

“It’s time,” he said.

And it was.

It was time to share her light, and ours, with the world.

The End