Words
The words were there. They were already said that the only respite you had was that moment wherein your head denied it. But the words were delivered to you and their meaning could not be denied and yet could not be accepted. Your head needed more time. Your body might already felt the cold as it dawned on it first even before your brain could tell it that it was so.
You were told that he was dead and the proof of the truth of those words was given to you irrefutably. And then you let that moment you clung to disbelieving— pass as you acknowledged that he was already gone doing what he loved.
Emotions ran amok in your chest. A burst then a containment. A growl then an angry tear. You murmured, 'Goodbye, my friend.' Your words spoken to the wind teasing your face. Words that said so little of what you felt for words were failing you. How could they not when words could never spell how much your friend meant.
And as you heard your own whispered words, you unclenched your fist and breathed in and then slowly expelled the air out through your lips, trying to release all the pain but the pain in your chest, it would stay. It would stay.
Grief. A label, a word so brief and yet so encompassing.
—o0o—
~12 1 13 AF P~
A/N: In the Fast & Furious universe, this is Dom mourning Han's death.
In real life, the world is already missing Paul...
...with gratitude, I say my goodbye...