Remembering a moment

I know she knows it. We both know it, we both felt it, and neither of us will ever say.

We both know the exact moment that he died. Because our hearts stopped too, and the world spun around. We didn't realize it until later, of course - but when the phone call came and the tears started, somehow it all clicked. That moment was real. His heart stopped for eternity. Ours stopped for a moment. But they did, they all did.

But that doesn't happen, after all. Half-way around the world, with an ocean and innumerable breaths between us, how could we possibly feel it? Know it? This isn't really dinner table conversation is it? Perhaps accompanied by a scoffing smirk or a side roll of the eyes. Better yet, not mentioned at all. Because after all, there's only so much sincerity you can build into "I do believe people are connected in ways we don't know" and only so much doubt and disbelief you can politely set aside.

But today I am going to sit here and think about that moment and take a pause. And I know she is doing the same thing. Because both our hearts stopped. Half-way around the world, with an ocean and innumerable breaths between us.

The only difference is that his didn't start up again.