The following morning, Molly felt a bit off. I wasn't sure if it was the wine or cancer, but I didn't want to tempt fate. I called and found a clinic we could visit that would see travelers. Once we arrived in Vienna, we went straight from the station to the hospital.

They were quick to run bloodwork and some scans. Before too long, they admitted Molly, and I was pacing back and forth in her room. A doctor who spoke English with a German accent came in and, with the kindest, softest bedside manner I've ever encountered, gave us the worst news we've ever received.

The cancer had grown back with force. It metastasized and spread throughout her system.

There was no fighting this, just making her comfortable.

We cried. I asked the doctor how this could happen after such a promising, hopeful diagnosis only four weeks earlier. He talked about the unpredictable nature of cancer and how it can change from a slow growth rate to a more aggressive type. Once it metastasized, all rules were off.

I had to step out of the room for some air. She watched me go but was too weak to protest. I should have stayed. Of course, I should have. Do you think I don't know that? It's one of my biggest regrets.

The time it took for her to tell me she felt a bit off on the train to her being admitted was less than two hours. I went to get some air two hours after that. She couldn't lift her head off the pillow when I returned 15 minutes later. Her last words to me were:

"Is Vienna pretty?"

Three hours later, she lost her fight, and I lost my person.

"We've been on this train for what feels like forever. The constant rocking is starting to get to me. When was the last time a cancer chick threw up in the hallway of a high-speed train in Europe? Time to reset that counter.

Of course, I've been miserable all night. I haven't wanted to wake you because you're so beautiful when you're asleep. I see the worry on your face.

There's nothing to worry about. We know the outcome. You just need to know how much I love you and how much I want you to move on when I'm gone. You shouldn't be alone. You deserve the best this world has to offer, and I cannot be that person.

Tell your new person how much you love me, and set the standard right off the bat.

I love you,

Molly

PS

I don't have a story."

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Into the Mystic

Our time may have been cut short, but I know she and I will be together forever in the mystic. Van Morrison may have been talking about a sailor excited about coming home to his girl. Still, I see that song as a far more extensive dialogue concerning the meeting of those lost before with those they left behind.

Molly is my person. It has been over 20 years since she left, and I haven't felt any sort of kindling of that fire that kept my heart so warm for so long. When her light went out of this world, the flame she lit in me dropped to a smoldering ember. I didn't think about it anymore.

Love was the one thing that I would not experience again.

It's been decades, and I still haven't been able to tell anyone about our last fateful weeks together.

Her letters have left me broken all over again. I love and miss her with a pain that can never be mended.

Late that fall, I sprinkled her ashes in all our favorite places. I revisited Bruges, though I stayed away from Amsterdam and Paris. I've never been back to Vienna, nor do I see that in my future. Molly says things to me in my dreams. I listen as hard as possible but can never remember what she said when I wake up.

I have one last letter that she wrote to me. It's not in her handwriting. The doctor gave it to me a few hours after she passed.

These are her final written words to me. Maybe they'll shed a little more light on why Molly cannot be replaced.

I love you, Molly, and I miss you with every fiber of my being. I wake at night and reach over to feel you by me in bed, only to be reminded that I am alone. I will see you again in another life.

"Jillian,

I know I've never used your full name, but it seemed important here. I'm dying. I hope to see you again before it happens. When you read this, I'll be gone, and you'll be sad. You better be sad. If not, at least fake it for a few days, for my sake.

I can feel myself going fast.

Short and sweet. I love you. You love me. Mr. Wishbone needs you. He'll be a wreck without me. Don't forget to pay for the parking every month or they'll tow my car again. Oh, right- maybe sell my car.

Put a stop on my CD club too.

When you hold my memorial, I want you to play Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen. Close the show with shiny, happy people.

Buy a dog. Go out more. Move to the woods somewhere.

I love you. Be well. Take care of yourself

Molly

PS

The doctor is cute; maybe see if he's single. (I'm not)."

It's been over 20 years. I've been waiting for my time to come so I can see my wonderful Molly once again. It hasn't happened yet, but I know it will someday. She always said she wanted me to find someone else, to start living my life for me. I haven't been able to do that. I've written her a letter that I think will help me move on.

"Molly,

You've always had my heart and always will. There's a comfort in knowing that I can always feel your love. Mr. Wishbone is still here. He looks a little worse for wear, but he's holding on.

I've been trying hard to move on for so many years and haven't been able to. You have me completely. There's never a point that I don't feel you with me.

That's where the problem lies. I need to be able to move on to lead my own life. I need to let you go. I don't know how, but I think the first step is going to be when I step foot out the door today.

I love you forever and always,

Jillian"

It turned out to be a beautiful, sunny day. I think there's still some life out there for me to find.