It was a beautiful, snowy day. Snowflakes swirled in the cold air and never stopped their dance. I wore high grey boots and a beige coat that hung to my knees. I was only ten years old when I first caught a glimpse of true love. I was walking to the store to grab a jug of milk. As I was walking out the door of my childhood home, I didn't have a single thought in mind. I walked and walked, as carefree as ever. I stopped just so I could try to catch a snowflake in my mouth. I kept on going and eventually stepped foot into the warm store. My eyes had started watering because of how long I had been walking in the crisp morning air, but I didn't care. Snow was one of the things I loved most at that age. Later on in life I realized that a child's love for snow is exactly like the love of a husband for his wife; deep, longing and highlighted most when its absence becomes too heavy a burden for the soul. The yellow lights in the store only made it cosier. I tried to grab the jug of milk on the top shelf, but I was too short. A sweet older woman came to my rescue. She had short grey hair that was neatly and carefully woven into a braid decorated with a simple white headband. White pearl earrings dangled from her ears. She barely wore any makeup, yet her skin was impeccable. I suddenly asked, "Miss, how is your skin so clear and... not wrinkly?" That earned me a chuckle from the woman. "My mother taught me about skincare at your age. I have never stopped doing it since. It is inevitable that you learn about it if you live in an Asian household like I did. I guess you will find out about it yourself at the appropriate time. Nevertheless, your skin is amazing too, darling!" she said with a laugh. She went on to pinch my chubby cheeks and continued her search for groceries. I couldn't help but bother her again and asked, "Miss, may I ask what your name is?" She looked at me with amusement and a hint of shock on her face and said, "You are so well spoken for a ten-year-old child, how come?" Annoyed with the change of topic, I quickly replied, "I enjoy writing short stories. I initially started in the first grade when we had to write one for homework. I love how I can write about anything and twist it in any direction I want." "That is wonderful, dear. Keep sharpening your little mind. Life will teach you that knowledge is a weapon, and one that is worth keeping at your disposal. Getting an education and not losing your passion for creativity is an art, though. Now, that is besides the point. My name is Martha. And yours?" she replied while her eyes got lost in the small piece of wisdom she had shared with me. "My name is Maisie. Nice to meet you. And thank you for helping me," I said cheerfully and headed to the candy aisle. I figured my mother would not notice the few cents missing for a chocolate bar. There stood a tall man with straight black hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He had a few grey hairs, which told me he was a bit older. He was looking for a Mars chocolate bar, and when he found it, his whole face lit up with indescribable joy. I walked over to him, curious about what could make a man so happy and asked, "Excuse me, what's your name?" "Gary, what's yours? And why do you ask, dear?" he replied. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr Gary, but I was wondering what made you so happy. Is that your favourite chocolate bar? My name is Maisie, by the way," I said. "It's actually for my wife. Martha has an obsession with these and I would do just about anything to see her smile," he called over his shoulder. I saw a spark in his eyes, as if this woman was the only person he cared to please, so I asked, "What is so special about her? You seem to be amazed by her." "That is because I'm deeply in love with her and have been since the first time we ever interacted. She is my first and only love. Love ignites you with a strange sense of recklessness, you know? It makes you do quite literally anything to protect them and make them feel loved. Is that weird?" he said with something like contentment crinkling his eyes. "No, it's beautiful," I said and walked out of the store, having forgotten the chocolate.
I decided to become a nurse. People always told me that following my passion for writing would get me nowhere and that I was way too smart to waste my education on that. I always returned to the conversation with the elderly woman at the store because she claimed it would be hard not to lose my passion for creativity while getting an education, and I was stubborn. I would not let something supposedly hard take me down. I wanted to prove myself, I didn't know to whom or why, but I had that drive to prove people wrong. And I did. My love for medicine grew stronger all the while writing stories, poems and letters in forgotten journals. The college required me to move out of my childhood home. I wasn't too excited about it, but if that was what it took to be able to get educated, then so be it. I eventually moved to an apartment instead of a dorm because I enjoyed my time alone. Very few people made me feel better in their company, so I revelled in my own. I worked at a hospital as an intern. My love language was helping people in any way I could without getting too emotionally attached. I was afraid of love. I had loved in the past and it always resulted in chaos. My heart would be broken and it would feel as if it could not be sewn together again. Not even with the finest thread. So I gave up on it. That was until the elderly couple moved into the apartment right above mine. Now I see it wasn't a coincidence. They were sent there to make me believe in love again, because life without it is not worth living. Not just romantic love. Love that remains despite everything it faces. The good days and the bad. The sacrifice and forgiveness. Despite it all. My landlord told me that a couple would be moving to the apartment above mine. I was curious, as always, so I asked and found out they were the couple who had shown me what love was for the first time. I thought it would be nice to catch up with them, so I visited them with a fresh batch of homemade brownies. We talked idly and I couldn't help but get lost in the gentle "I love you's" and whispered compliments. These people were the embodiment of love. I wondered why I had never gotten the chance to be loved like this. I asked about how they had met. Apparently, they met while Martha was picking poppies in a field where Gary was walking his dog. I laughed at the irony of it all. Their love was straight out of a movie. And for that reason, I secretly carried jealousy and bitterness in my heart.
For the next few months, I focused on school and work. Those two things were the only constants in my life. I couldn't make any friends at college. I wanted to, despite preferring my time alone, because I felt lonely. I was tired of having no one. No one to talk to, laugh with, or just share a coffee with. The couple on the top floor were the closest I had to friends, so I clung to their company. I witnessed a few of their arguments and that made me realize that they were just people, too. Their love wasn't perfect like I had once thought, but they surely worked on keeping it healthy and caring even through the hard days. That inspired me and made me feel hopeful for my own future. My visits to their home became a tradition. We would sit down on their small brown couch every Friday and I would throw all my problems at them. One time I was talking about how tiring studying for a final exam was. Martha couldn't help but laugh at my inconvenience. The laugh turned into a cough that rattled her chest. She quickly recovered and continued talking about her own experiences with studying. She talked about how hard it had been to become a lawyer. I admired her resilience and perseverance alongside her husband, who kept planting kisses on her cheeks after each achievement she mentioned. These long conversations were so healing. Martha and Gary became my best friends in no time. I began showing up at their doorstep more and more often. They made me feel truly seen.
Our next tradition was game nights. We played a variety of games, but our favourite was downloading crime stories from the Internet and solving a murder mystery. Martha was a retired lawyer, so she was very stubborn, just like me. That always led to success. Gary would just watch from the side and laugh at me and Martha as we laid out every possible theory and suspect. We were so alike, but also not at all. She was stubborn, yet listened to everyone without judgment. She was strong where I was weak. And we completed each other. She was the female best friend I longed for my whole life. Gary was our voice of reason. We would get so invested in the details that we would forget to look at the obvious. That's where he stepped in. Nothing could break the three of us apart. And my heart was so full that it could explode.
It was a Tuesday. I was walking to campus when I saw Martha and Gary on the street. Gary was shining with happiness. His smile only grew bigger when Martha interlaced their fingers. I waved and called, "Hey, over here!" They turned around and saw me standing on the opposite side of the street. Martha looked unusually pale, but I blamed it on the cold weather. I ran over to them and enveloped them in a big hug. "How are you guys?" I asked. "Never been better!" they replied in unison and shocked even themselves. "That was odd. Anyway, I'm rushing to college to submit my assignment. See you tomorrow at our annual coffee meet-up?" "Of course, dear," said Martha in a shaky voice. "I suppose she really is cold," I thought. After handing in the assignment, I got ready for work. The only thing on my agenda today was going through paperwork and signing in new patients. Curiosity got the better of me again and I searched for Gary and Martha's names to see if they've had any medical complications as of late. Gary's documents showed nothing concerning. I searched for Martha next and I immediately started bawling. I couldn't believe it.
She had cancer. Cancer. Martha had stage four cancer. I tried to calm down, but it only got worse. Then I felt empty. And finally, I settled on anger. Why didn't they tell me? How could they leave out such important pieces of information? Maybe they thought it would hurt me. And it did. But I wasn't a fragile little girl anymore. Or so I thought. I stormed out of the building, not caring that my shift wasn't over yet. I walked and walked until my feet hurt. I walked until my lungs constricted. I walked until I felt like I had no energy left. Finally, I knocked on that familiar door. Martha opened it. Now that she stood so close, I noticed her yellow eyes and the grey hue that coloured her skin. And she noticed my tear-stricken face. The realization hit her right away. I hugged her until I didn't have any tears in my eyes anymore. Until my limbs felt as if they were going to fall off. I was numb. Nobody was going to save me from this nightmare. And then she said the most devastating words I had ever heard, "It's okay, honey. I've accepted my fate. And this life has been nothing but good to me. I'm going to achieve every single thing I haven't yet with you and Gary, and that will be enough. Because you loved me like no one else has. You taught me that life is beautiful only if you let it be. And I won't let cancer take that away from me." And all three of us cried. Over and over again.
Martha wanted to go to prom because she had never had the chance to. We hosted one of the most elegant proms the world has seen. There were yellow roses everywhere. Yellow was her favourite colour. And she was the colour itself. Bubbly, light and warm. Gary became more and more broken over time. His smile was reserved only for her. His gaze morphed into something hollow and dull. It only lit up when his eyes landed on her. It was heartbreaking to see his light slowly die out. Because she was his light. From the moment they met in that poppy field. And now he was lost without her to light his darkness.
Martha's last wish was to visit a zoo. She had never been to one before, which was a shock to me. We got there and helped Martha get around the whole zoo and see every animal. She was amazed by the world and how intricate it was. It was inspiring to see how deeply she cared for everyone and everything. Gary distracted himself. He laughed with us until we cried and lived to the fullest. And I loved seeing that he was a bit more like himself again.
Martha suddenly died. I will never forget that day. The day that changed everything. I came to our Friday meet-up and Martha was just talking about how she had completed everything on her bucket list. She looked truly happy. She was full of life even on her last day. She lost consciousness and started shaking uncontrollably. There was nothing we could do but watch the life disappear from her eyes. It happened so fast. It was as if God ensured everything would happen as painlessly as possible. And even as she was dying, she made sure Gary and I would never lose hope in life and love. She said, "Love. Live. To the fullest. For me." Tears welled in my eyes, but I stayed strong. Gary cried but looked content despite his tears. He knew that she died in peace having known that she had lived. This wasn't the end of her life. This was only the start of a painless and even happier one.
Gary and I became closer than we had ever been. Martha sent us signs all the time. Yellow was suddenly everywhere. Mars chocolate bars and roses. We continued our Friday meet-ups. And we lived. Loved. To the fullest. All for her. And she was watching with the biggest smile on her face.