The Last Dance of Love

Each page of this book holds a piece of my soul, my smiles, my heartbreak, and my real tears. There were times I could hardly continue; some passages plunged me into sadness so deep I could barely see the keyboard through my tears. I couldn’t always bring myself to relive every part of this mystical journey. On my darkest days, the stereo would turn itself on for the seventh time, and I felt Lorraine’s presence encouraging me, letting me know I wasn’t alone. Sometimes I am haunted by thoughts like, “I don’t want to die, but I have no purpose to live.” Then I picture Lorraine’s face, her eyes, once so alive, filled with concern for me. How could I give up now? Her love rekindled my fire; she believed in me, supported me, and loved me with unwavering passion. Lorraine is beyond the reach of pain now, no more rejection, no more abuse, no more heartbreak. My heart ached to see her suffer, even for a moment. I remember her saying, “I’m tired of being sick,” just two days before her sched