Goodbye Forever, My Love… I Will Never Forget You, Angel Brittany
It’s been years now since the sky turned gray on July 30, 2020 — but for me, that day never ends.
That was the day I lost Brittany — not just a name, not just a date, but my entire world wrapped into one beautiful soul. My angel, my friend, my sister, my everything.
People say time heals, but they don’t know what it’s like to lose someone whose laughter still echoes in your bones. Whose touch still lingers in your dreams. Whose absence hurts more than any wound ever could.
I still remember the last morning. It was quiet. Brittany had a light in her eyes, even when she was tired. She always tried to smile. That day… she smiled a little longer. She held my hand a little tighter.
I didn’t know it was her goodbye.
We all think we’ll have more time. Another hug. Another laugh. One more picture, one more “I love you.” But we never imagine a world where those chances are gone — stolen in a single, cruel moment.
Brittany’s passing wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a dramatic goodbye. It was quiet, like the fading of a song you never wanted to end. She closed her eyes, and in doing so, opened a wound that would never fully heal.
I wasn’t ready. I never could be.
Since then, life has been a series of empty rooms, silent phones, and longing glances toward the sky. I talk to her when I’m alone. I whisper her name into pillows soaked with tears. I light candles on July 30th every year — one for every year she’s gone, one for every dream we didn’t get to finish together.
People ask what Brittany was like.
She was kind. Unbelievably kind.
She was the kind of person who stopped to help a bird with a broken wing.
She remembered birthdays no one else did.
She could make you feel seen — truly seen — like your presence alone made the world better.
She was joy. She was sunshine on stormy days. She was grace, even when life wasn’t kind to her.
Losing her wasn’t just losing a person. It was losing light. Losing the smell of fresh flowers she loved. Losing inside jokes that only she would get. Losing future birthdays, holidays, and late-night talks about nothing and everything.
She wasn’t supposed to go. Not then. Not like that.
But life doesn’t ask what’s fair.
And so, I grieve.
But even in that grief, I find flickers of her everywhere.
In butterflies. In sunsets. In the random songs that play when I’m feeling lost. I feel her near — I choose to feel her near — because I need her to still be here in some way.
Brittany, if you can hear this: I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry for the times I took your presence for granted. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold you longer. But I promise — with every breath I take — I will honor you.
I will say your name.
I will remember July 30, 2020 — not only for the pain but for the love you gave so freely before that day.
You didn’t just die. You lived, Brittany. You lived in a way that changed lives. Mine most of all.
Now, I’ll carry you in my heart forever.
Until we meet again — Goodbye, my love.
RIP Brittany
🕊️ July 30, 2020