I was working late in the university studio, alone. The only sound was the scratch of my charcoal. A sudden, warm breeze rustled the papers on the desk, even though the windows were closed. And on that breeze, I heard it—or felt it—one last time.
Not a whisper of words, but a feeling. A feeling of profound gratitude, of joy, of release. It was a feeling of sunlight.
It filled the room for a single, breathtaking moment, and then it was gone. Not faded, but completed. The final thread of connection dissolved, not in sadness, but in fulfillment. She was truly, finally, free.