Short, short story

We were High School sweethearts. She was two years older than me and she tells me that she picks me out at a basketball game. I am sitting on the bench. I knew who she was. A cheerleader, had a car. She was something. Fast forward, our lives take different turns. She is for a bit, an airline flight attendant, begins to date a local boy who is at best a Neanderthal type. Why she would do it, I don't have a clue. I'm out pursuing whatever a guy like me pursues when away at college. But, she is always in my heart. One day I'm at school and my best buddy who is still hanging around my hometown, calls me, "Bernie, you'd better sit down. Olivia got married." What! I couldn't believe it. Somehow, I thought she'd always wait for me. She didn't, raised a family, loved her life and the sort of persona that one lives. In our little town, everybody knew her. She could light up a room just by walking into it. I visited from time to time, her husband was a good guy, worked for himself, made a good life. But, in our hearts, we always loved her. She taught me how to kiss. Her lips were soft, just imagine a small baby's fingers and touching them to your lips. And, here's where this tale is focused. We rendezvous in the sunset of our lives and after a couple of years of sporadic wonderful enlightened love making, she dies of breast cancer. I am heartbroken but move on as I have another life. Here's where it may get dicey with all but me: With regularity, I am awakened with her soft lips touching mine in the tenderest of ways. No questions or secrets revealed, merely in the first hushed mornings light I am blessed with the softest of kisses.