This was a prompt from my weekly writing group check-in. The prompt was “the fault is in our stars” but the word star is what struck a nerve. So, here is what I wrote in 7 minutes (with minor edits once I carried it over here).
After you died I always found myself sitting outside, gazing at the stars. Two months after you passed we celebrated your second birthday. The air was thick on that late August night as I sat outside, swatting bugs of my sweaty skin. Mom told me to search for your star. I assumed it would be the biggest and brightest because to me, you were the biggest part of my life and the brightest spot in my day.
After 30 years, you would assume that tradition would end, yet I still find myself looking up as the darkness consumes the sky. I look for the biggest and brightest star, your star. A sense of peace washes over me when I spot it, knowing you’re so close to me, even if it is actually lightyears away. But as I drive two sleepy kids home from practice, you’re there. When I feel a heaviness in body, I look out my living room window and see your star.
You’re always around, Courtney Sue, as long as I look outside.