Edward

"I'll be there in a minute," I called after her as she hopped out of the car, her long brunette hair blowing in the wind. She walked across the grass and knelt down onto the ground, securing the baby close to her heart.

I smiled slightly as I watched her and turned back to the blank piece of paper resting against the dashboard of the car. I took a deep breath and slipped the pen from my ear before I started to right.

Bella,

It's odd isn't it? A little over a year ago we were driving down the coast of California and now we're here. Everything happened so fast. Almost like I blinked and everything had changed. And it has, hasn't it sweetheart?

Loving you has taught me so many things, but mostly that hope is the most powerful thing we have in our possession and even when that fails, there is something to live for. I wouldn't trade one minute, one moment of our relationship for anything. It wasn't always perfect and I know it was hard, especially lately, to see the good through the bad. You've showed me love Bella, you've showed me life, given me everything I never deserved and for that I'll be eternally grateful. I never thought I'd be here now, giving this letter to you, when I first met you at the coffee shop. Even if I didn't realize it consciously at the time, I knew instantly that meeting you was a significant moment in my life. I met you and that was it.

I stopped writing and looked back outside. They swept over the beautiful trees, the sunlight splaying over the grass. It was the perfect place. I played absentmindedly with my wedding ring as I turned back to my letter.

We buried you yesterday. It doesn't seem real, not having you here with us. When we were younger, the day you left the hospital you told me you were done being afraid. You wanted to live your life until it was done, whenever that may be. And now it's come. I know you were ready to go baby, but I can't say that forever would be long enough with you and I feel like a part of me is missing right now. I guess a part of me takes comfort that you aren't in pain anymore, that nothing can touch you ever again. I'll always remember you that way, young and innocent. And you've returned to it. It's like a vicious tug of war in my heart and I feel like a selfish bastard for wanting to keep you here with me.

"Dad?" My daughter turned her head towards me and adjusted her son on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just finishing up." I gave her a reassuring nod and started writing again.

I don't want you to worry about your dance studio; we're taking care of it. You should have seen all of your students at the funeral. They all came in their ballet shoes…well I'm sure you know the rest. Sure throwing used ballet shoes instead of flowers into a grave is a little unconventional, but I knew it would have made you smile. They loved you so much and I know they will all be better dancers because of you. I think the only dancer you've never been able to help was me and that's because I'm a freak of nature and have no sense of rhythm.

I feel like I could write you the longest letter in the world and I would never say all I wanted to say. The funny thing is that you probably know all of it, even if I don't say it. You always knew all the words in my heart even in the silence.

Alice is already organizing a benefit in your name, even though I told her you wouldn't want a big fuss made over you no matter how much you deserve it. She didn't listen of course. She's planning on donating all of the proceeds from her next fashion line to breast cancer research in your honor. Jasper has been nothing but supportive of her the past few days and I'm thankful for that because I've been having a hell of a time keeping myself together. Sometimes it feels like you aren't even gone. I don't feel you gone yet. And then those few moments that I do are completely debilitating. You were the center of our world love, and it's just not complete without you in it. Just know that wherever you are, I'm missing you. Always.

I set the pen down and took a deep breath. I opened the glove compartment and set the pen inside before opening the car door and getting out.

"Papa." My grandson reached for me as I reached them. My daughter took my hand and we both felt a silence settle over us.

"She's happy isn't she?" She asked, staring down at the ground below us.

"Yeah baby I think she is." I leaned over and kissed her head. It always struck me how much she looked like Bella. She had her hair and her eyes. And her grace and strength.

"What?" She asked, turning towards me.

"You just remind me of your mother is all." I tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. A tear slipped from her cheek and she squeezed my hand.

"She was so brave at the end. I don't know if I will ever have that kind of courage."

"You do. You just don't know it yet." Even when the cancer came back for the third and last time, I saw no fear in Bella's eyes. I think she knew this was it, even though she didn't want it to be. In a way we were both thankful it had waited so long to rear its ugly head again. We had a beautiful, long life together filled with more love than I could have ever imagined. And even though it wasn't long enough, the time we had was perfect. I was grateful for her and everything she'd given me.

"How are we going to do this? I don't know how to let her go."

"You don't have to let her go. Ever." I bent down and brushed my hand across Bella's gravestone. "Keep her with you everywhere you go. And she'll be there. Every time I paint she'll be with me. It's impossible to be me without carrying her in my heart." I set the letter at the bottom of the stone and stood back up.

"I'll go strap in Tucker and give you a few minutes." She patted my back and headed back to the car.

I nodded and stuck my hands in my pockets. "I guess there's nothing left to say," I whispered.

"And everything left to say." I read over the words carved into her gravestone one more time.

Isabella Cullen

Devoted Wife, Sister, Mother

1987-2052

I took a few more moments to be with her. I was terrified to leave her out here alone, but I guess it wasn't so bad. This place was beautiful for her and because of her at the same time. I leaned over and touched her name before bringing my hand over my heart and whispering that I loved her. "It's not the end baby." I closed my eyes and turned away from the tombstone.

I climbed silently back into the car and we drove away, leaving half of my heart behind. When we started reaching the edge of town, my daughter finally turned to me and cleared her throat.

"Should I drop you off at the house?" She asked.

"No." I shook my head. "Take me to my studio. I want to do some work."

"Dad are you sure? Maybe you should take a few days off."

"No. I need to."

"Okay."

She dropped me off at the studio and I kissed them both goodbye. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Everything was just as I'd left it. Paint brushes scattered across splattered tables. Half done canvases and blank ones set up all over the room. Our "Marry Me" painting hung in the corner. I was lucky that I could afford something this nice. I never knew I'd be able to have all of this, but Bella made sure of it when she practically forced me to showcase my work.

I put on some soft music and cracked open one of the windows. The soft, wispy curtains fluttered a little in the wind as I walked back over to one of the blank canvases.

I grasped the paintbrush tightly in my hand, even though it hurt a little. My arthritis was starting to get to me, but I refused to let it take away my painting. It was the place I could always find her.

I dipped it in some paint and raised it to the canvas as the curtains fluttered again. I glanced up over the easel and smiled as she stepped from the curtains into the room. She was light, airy, a faint glow surrounding her. Her long brown hair fell in waves down her back, just like it did when we were younger. It was my Bella.

"There you are," she said. She twirled behind the curtains as they blew in the wind and peeked out with a smile. She kicked her leg out and danced across the floor so lightly it was like she was floating. It reminded me of her dance at the hospital talent show. The one that saved her life all those years ago. And in that moment I knew the words I'd told my daughter earlier were true. Bella was happy, wherever she was.

I smiled and went back to painting, the image of her dancing behind my easel. I painted. She danced. And for those few hours the world seemed a little simpler than the rest of the day.

I dedicate this story to my grandmother and all those who have lost their fight, are still fighting, or will fight. Never give up.