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It has been eight years since you saw me last. I see you everyday, though. I know you sense it, sense that there is someone there, near to you, but so far away.

I watched you those first few hours, as you tried so desperately to comprehend what was going on. I don't think you understood though. It took you a while to realise that I wasn't going to be around, that I would no longer be calling your name everyday.

I watched as the others comforted you through their own sorrow, and all I knew is that I wanted to comfort you myself, to tell you that I was still there for you. I missed our daily conversations about nothing and everything, missed our teasing; missed the comments that you used to make when you thought that I wasn't listening. I always listened, even when you weren't speaking.

It was weeks before I got the courage to try and talk to you, and then you ignored me. It hurt, and I didn't know that I could hurt, but you couldn't help it. I tried again and again, and still nothing.

But one day I caught you talking to me. I was in your apartment, in your bedroom one night, watching you sleep. Suddenly you woke up and I was sure that you could see me. You called my name, and I laughed out loud in joy, and replied. Then nothing. I realised that you couldn't see me, and you knew that you couldn't see me, and you started crying. I hugged you then, but you received no comfort. You cried all night and I hated that there was nothing that I could do to wipe away the tears. I cried along with you that night.

But then a week later I was there again and you called my name from the depths of sleep, and I called back. And this time when you woke up you seemed to still see me, and I remember that you told me about how things were going. How you weren't coping well without me. You told me nothing that I did not already know, but I sat there and listened regardless. I didn't know whether you could hear me or not, or whether you were just anticipating my answers, but we had a real conversation. I don't remember ever feeling that alive, despite the fact that I was no longer.

You told Sam the next day, and he looked at you with pity in his eyes as he brought you into his arms and told you that you had probably imagined it. You tried to deny it, but he didn't listen, and you soon left and went to the bathroom and cried. I shouted for hours at him, telling him that I was there, that I could hear him, that he should be able to hear me, but he wasn't listening.

You went home early as you had done for weeks now, and as you were standing looking in the mirror, asking yourself if you were going crazy, you looked around and saw me. I know that you saw me. But you didn't speak to me. I could hear you thinking of what Sam had said, and although I tried to get through to you as well, you didn't reply. But I know that you heard me. I saw it in your eyes, in your face as you told yourself that you were imagining things, that once gone, people left forever for somewhere else, that they did not return.

Years passed, and I watched you still. I watched you as you tried to get over me, tried to find other people to enjoy life with. Then he came into your life. Will was the perfect guy for you. I should know. I followed him round trying to find out what he was like, and I couldn't see anything wrong with him. I hated that. He was tall, dark, and some might say, handsome. And I so badly wanted him to do something wrong, wanted him to be the epitome of everything that is evil incarnate. And at the same time I wanted him to be the best guy in the world, to cherish you, to make you feel worthy because I knew that I could no longer be that guy.

You resisted at first, but I could tell you were thinking about it. You no longer had to worry about my opinion, but I know that internally you debated it anyway. After about three months you gave in. I wasn't sure whether I should have been elated as a friend, or distraught that you finally had got over me. But such emotions eluded me.

He took you to a restaurant, somewhere that you had raved on about three years ago and I had neither the courage nor the wisdom to take you. You enjoyed yourself, I knew that, but I could see that sometimes you started laughing at what he said, and then held yourself back. I wasn't sure whether that was for me, or because you were out of practice of enjoying yourself.

He called you the next day, and you laughed and told him that he didn't want to seem over eager. You didn't sound disappointed, though. You finally gave into the idea of going to the opera; somewhere I had always wanted to take you. I had never really enjoyed operas, but the idea of making you happy had always appealed to me. I even had once bought tickets for us to go together, and was debating the merits of asking you as a friend, or asking you as something more, when suddenly I could no longer ask you at all.

You loved it as I had known you would. I hated it, but seeing how overawed you were with the performance, how affected you were by the music, I ended up loving it. You could do that to me.

He asked you back to his apartment for coffee, and you were dubious at first until he said that it was coffee, nothing more. And I felt bad watching you like this, but I couldn't help myself.

It continued like this for several months, and everyone could see the difference in you. Four years had passed and I didn't think that you even remembered me. But then one night, your four month anniversary, when he was going to take you back to the restaurant you first went to before taking you back to his apartment, you spoke to me for the first time in over three years. You told me that you missed me, that you would never forget me, but that you had to move on, otherwise the pain would be too much.

I understood, and I left you alone that night.

Eight months later you happily announced your engagement, and again I felt a conflict of emotions. Will was a really good guy, he would look after you, he loved you, he would make you happy, but he wasn't me. I was elated for you, and regretful at the same time. But it wasn't your fault; nothing was your fault. Everyone was happy for you. I wondered if they would have been happier if it had been us in that situation, but there was nothing that could be done now.

It was the night before your wedding day a year later, over five years since I had been gone from your life, and you spoke to me again. I was surprised, I thought that you had let me go years before. You asked if I was happy for you, if I would let you go. And you saw me again in that moment.

I told you the truth: that I missed you, that I had loved you as long as I could remember. But that we both knew that there was a line separating us that could never be crossed. You told me that you meant what you had said the previous year, that you really would never forget me, and I told you that you didn't have to worry because I was there whenever you needed me, and that I would never forget you. You told me that you loved me, and that would never change. You said again that you needed to move on because you loved Will, and being alone was too much to take. I smiled, but didn't know if you could see me. I told you that you had to move on, that tomorrow should be the happiest day of your life, and that I would be there to see you walk down that aisle to the man you loved. You told me that you had always imagined that it would be me you walked towards. I said that there was nothing we could do, and that Will was a good guy and that you should be happy. We talked until the early hours of the morning, and only stopped as you fell asleep. I watched you, knowing that I was going to lose you for all of your life.

I did as I said, and I watched you walk towards your future husband. You had never looked more beautiful in your life, and I gave into my fantasy where you looked like that for me. But I stopped myself; it wasn't fair on you. You looked happier than you had in six years, and I hoped that it was something to do with what I had told you last night – that you had to go on with your life. You exchanged rings, and kissed, and everyone cheered as you went to the reception.

I mingled with your guests, although they didn't know it. And I watched as you danced the first dance with your husband. Later Sam danced with you, and I listened to your conversation. He told you that he was wrong not to believe that you had talked to me that night, that he had spoken to me on occasion since, which was true. You looked surprised, but said nothing. He said that he had always known that we were in love and were foolish to have never acted on it. This time you really were surprised, as was I. I knew that I had loved you for a while before, but didn't think that you had loved me back, or that we were obvious about it. He said that he was happy for you, and you asked if he would have been happier if it had been me. He replied that of course he would have been happier, but mostly because that it would mean that I would still be with you. You started to cry, and he comforted you yet again. Sam told you that I would always live on in your hearts and that was what was important. He told you that Will was a great guy, and that how it was great to see you so happy with him. You smiled widely. And all I wanted to do in that moment was hold you tight and dance with you and tell you all the same things.

You went on honeymoon to Hawaii, and I visited my mom for a while.

Almost a year later you found out that you were pregnant. But you didn't speak to me this time, and I felt left out. I knew, however, that it was between you and your husband and those among the living. It was unfair, but it was the way that things were.

I spent less time with you, less time with the living. It was seven years since I had been physically among them, and it was almost time for me to move on.

I waited until after you had given birth. I had thought that despite your promises, you had forgotten me, but that night while you were alone in the hospital with your new son, you spoke to me again. You asked me if it was okay if you were to name your son after me. Apparently you and Will had discussed it a few months ago when you found out you were having a boy. I don't think that you had ever told him that you had loved me, but that was okay, I didn't want to come between you.

I told you that I would be honoured, and you smiled. You looked lovelier than ever, and I wanted to hold you and kiss you, but there was that barrier between us. I told you one last time how much I loved you and wondered briefly about what would be if only you could be mine... But you stopped me and smiled again.

One day, you said. One day we would see each other again. One day in the future, you would be mine.

It was then that I told you that I was going. That I, too, had to move on. You cried, and I cried with you, knowing that I would not see you for a long time to come. I repeated what Sam had told you, that I would always be alive in your heart, and that it was better for you. I said goodbye once more, and left the living forever in that moment.

But I remember your last words to me. One day, you had said. And I shall hold you to it.

FINI

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