Window notes.

I died almost nine years ago. However I am not writing you to tell you how it is up here. I am writing to tell you my story. The story of my big love. And I also want to let you know that love doesn't die. Even in the other world. Even if others try to kill it, even if you want to too. Love doesn't die. Never. We met on December 31st. I decided to spend the New Year with my third wife at my old friends'. Until I met her, my existence was so pathetic and useless that I asked myself often, "What do I live for?" Work? Yes, I liked what I did. Family? I really wanted to have kids, but didn't have them. Now I know that the purpose of my life was to wait for that encounter. I don't want to describe her. Actually, I will not be able to describe her so that you really understand what she looked like. Because every letter, every line of this letter is saturated with my love for her, and I was willing to give up everything for every eyelash and every tear that fell from her sad eyes. So, it happened on December 31st. I knew I was in love right then and there. If she were by herself, I wouldn't have been ashamed of my third wife and would have made my way over to her within the first minute of our meeting. But she wasn't alone. She was with my best friend. They knew each other for only a few weeks, but he told me a lot of interesting things about her. And now, I met her. When the clock have chimed and the toasts have been said, I made my way to the window. The glass got misted from my breath and I wrote, "I love you". I stepped back, and the writing had disappeared before my eyes. Then there was a feast and more toasts. I came back to the window in an hour. I blew the hot air on the glass and saw "I am yours". My feet gave out and my breathing stopped for a few seconds... Love only comes once. And the person knows it instantly. Everything that happened in my life before this day - it was all tinsel, a dream, a delirium. There are too many words to describe that. But my life started on that exact New Year Eve, because I realized, I saw it in her eyes, that this day was also the first day of her life. On January, the 2nd we moved to the hotel and were planning to buy our own small place. It became a habit of ours to write notes on windows for each other. I'd write, "You are my dream". She'd respond, "Just don't wake up". We left our innermost wishes on the hotel windows, in the car, at our friends' houses. We were together for exactly two months. Then I died.
Now I only visit her when she is asleep. I sit on her bed and smell her skin. I can't cry. I don't know how. But I feel the pain. Not the physical one, but emotional. She has been celebrating New Year alone for the past eight years. She sits by the window, pours champagne in the glass and cries. I also know that she continues writing notes on the windows for me. Every day. But I can't read them because the window glass doesn't mist over from my breath.
Last New Year was unusual. I don't want to reveal all the secrets of the other world, but I have earned one wish. I dreamed of reading the last note she left on the window. And when she fell asleep, I sat by her bed for a long time, caressing her hair, kissing her hands... And then I made my way over to the window. I knew I could do it, I knew I would be able to see her last message - and I saw it. She left only one word for me, "Let me go".
This New Year will be the last one that she spends alone. I got a permission for my last wish in exchange for never visiting her and never seeing her again. This New Year, when the clock chimes midnight, and when everyone is celebrating and congratulating each other, when the Universe stands still awaiting the first breath, the first second of the new year, she will pour herself some champagne, she will walk over to the window, and will see my writing, "I am letting you go".