I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all. Maybe if I was less selfish? Perhaps if I only showed her how much I loved her? Maybe she would still be here. But I will never know. I will never see her smile again. Or hear her laugh.

I had the entire world.

I had her.

But now, as I sit here on the harsh soil, a slab of worn marble in front of me, I realize it was her hand, the one I used to hold in my own, feeling the warmth of her body, that I miss the most.