I'm asleep at the wheel

I just finished reading a book that made me cry. Hell, I'm crying as I type these words. There's no point in describing the book's theme since it has absolutely nothing to do with anything. What I'm going to describe is this scene: a girl, crying and thinking, 'if I hadn't done that, if I had just gone with him'. There, in my kitchen table, as I read those words, all the memories of Luis, his smile, his voice, his eyes, came rushing back to me, flooded me, and in that same instant I cried because I couldn't hold the thought of him. And I thought yet again, what if I just gone with him when he wanted me to? What if I hadn't rejected him and told him away? And still, he smiled and kissed my forehead, and said those three words the world dreads. And then laughed and said the last words I would heard him say, "We'll see each other soon, then." Like that. Not even in Spanish-he said them in English. And he rode his car and drove away. And later, when I knew what had happened, in an instant all the laughs, the tender looks, the embraces, all the sunsets holding hands in my aunt's office and all the words he ever said to me came and haunted me. And my eyes were dry, at all times, even when I found myself staring down at his grave, asking him why he was gone, why he had left me. All I saw in that square of marble was a engraving with his name. And underneath that, he wasn't there. My boy, my Luis, what he was and what I had came to love since we were little kids was gone and I could never again look at his gray eyes and find them smiling down at me, the way the always did. I did shed tears, but they were more for me than for him. Tears, Liz says, are always for the losing of the mourner. And now, three years and hundreds of miles away, a simple book makes me remember and wish he were here. I swear I never felt as alone as I feel right now. The weight of his loss had never been so hard on me until this very moment. Call me weird for crying while typing away at something that probably will never be read.