Four years and one day ago I met Cory Iverson. I remember the moment I first saw him, standing at the top of a set of stairs, right outside the apartment he, and my best friend, had been living together in for a few months. Just two months prior to that day, sometime between Christmas and New Years, my best friend called to tell me she was engaged to this man. She met him, moved in with him, and got engaged, all in the span of what seemed like a short time. In reality, what made it feel short is because I had never met the guy!

Our other best friend and I pulled onto the street, parked, and both had an overprotective sisterly love boiling inside our hearts as we walked towards them. Hugs and smiles were exchanged, we quickly saw the apartment, and then us ladies were off to enjoy pre-wedding fun. Yes, the next day was their wedding day. My best friend was marrying a man I had literally just met.

Exactly four years ago, I discovered that my best friend had met the love of her life. She met her soul mate. She probably had told me this multiple times over the previous year, as I cringed when I heard the word “we” being said, in reference to herself and a perfect stranger in my eyes. That day, March 22, 2014, I saw someone else in my eyes. I saw a man, yes a man, who loves my sister with all his heart. I saw a gorgeous smile, that was always brighter when looking at my best friend. I heard the laugh that I love so dearly, curdle out of my best friend’s throat, while she was goofing around with Cory. I felt a vibration of love emanating throughout a group of people that I did not know well (and never would have realized I would later call them family).

That day, four years ago today, my best friend had never looked more beautiful. Draped in off-white lace, hugging her unique and fit body, decorated in pearls, with the sparkle in her one of a kind green eyes with red speckles, and a perfectly lipsticked frame around her glorious smile with that slight gap, that we all adore. When they looked at one another, deep in to each others’ eyes, as if no one else was in the vicinity at all, each of their smiles was like a reflection of the other, but in both of their individual ways, just with the same intensity and volume. Cory’s smile was something out of a magazine for a dentist office. Both of their noses would tuck in just slightly, being pulled by the reaches of the sides of their mouths. Creases in the sides of their eyes would appear from being pushed up. But it was the eyes, locked on one another, peering into each others’ soul, not a doubt or any questions in either minds that this was the one.

A few days or weeks after my best friend told me that she was getting married, then that she was getting married in two months and doing a DIY wedding with the help of friends, she asked me to handle all of the music for the day. I had never been more honored up until that point. I spent more time perfecting this six hour playlist than I did on my previous two marathon playlists. This beautiful woman, my best friend and sister by heart, gave me the perfect gift that day, that I continue to cherish. To the other women in the “bridal party” she gave a necklace with their initials. To me, she gave me a necklace with a music note on it. It is, without a doubt, my second most favorite and cherished necklace (she knows the first). The music was a success, from the moment we realized we did not pre-choose a song for the family, maid of honor and best man to walk down the aisle, to the moment the newly man and wife spontaneously enjoyed their first slow dance together as a married couple.

Neither Cory or my sister asked for a “first dance” song. In reality, there was not a dance floor, or a period of “dancing” it was just a few hours of a party with the family. I had different plans. Having Mr. and Mrs. Iverson enjoy their first dance together was completely pre-meditated for the first hour of the “party” section of my playlist. It was an absolute goal of mine to get these two on the “dancefloor” together for a love song, embracing each other, while all our hearts melted. I verbally squeaked, “yes!” when I saw my bestie grab her husbands hand and say, “it’s our song, we have to dance.” The video I took of the two of them dancing round and round, in the middle of their loved ones, to “At Last” by Etta James, while they smooched over and over again, and bubbles floated through the air as they laughed and smiled those smiles, will be cherished forever. Mission accomplished.

Why do I write this today? Just over three months ago, this incredible man, who has not only become a friend to me over the years, but family, passed away, while fighting a fire. Typing those words down brings a knot in my throat and tears to my eyes. Sigh. Deep breath. Deep breath. I ache for my sister. I witnessed that day, and continued to each time we were together over the last four years, the special love and care they have between one another. I also came to love this man. Not just because of the deep love he has for my sister, and because of the perfect angel of a niece him and my sister created, but because I know he cared for me also. He drove his wife, and newborn child, the eight plus hours, to attend my mother’s funeral, to only return back home a few hours later and get back to work. He invited me into his home, whether he was home or not, and allowed me to take refuge with his family when I needed them. He let me care for his wife and daughter, and in turn let them care for me, when we was off fighting fires with CalFire. Moreover, they spent vacations with us, visiting me at the place I love, in Kirkwood, California, snowboarding, snowshoeing and enjoying homemade dinners together each night, and also camping in Big Bear, by a perfect stream, going on hikes, making tacos, and playing cornhole.

My essays on this website often provide advice on how to be there for a friend who is going through depression or grief, or how the struggling individual can get through this battles. From the losses I have experienced, I have gained insight on how to care for oneself and to care for others. Losing Cory has brought sharp perspective. I actually do not know much. My loss is entirely different than everyone else’s loss. I have no idea what to say, ever, to my sister who lost her husband. I feel helpless when not by her and her daughter’s side.

As someone who loves someone who is going through loss and grief, we have an ache inside to help, to be there for them, to comfort, to love. That ache is never fulfilled, similar to how our loved one’s ache is never fulfilled (although obviously no where near the same scale). We always feel like we say the wrong thing. Always. Every word. Every call. Every text. Every video. Every essay! “Fuck! I said the wrong thing again.”

Although I allow my mind and heart to go there, to really go there – to crawl down into the pit and imagine what it looks like and feels like in the pit – I will never fully understand what my sister is going through today, and everyday. Besides the fact that I do not have a child (and another on the way) or a husband, losing the love of one’s life is different than losing any other person in one’s life. I have not lost the love of my life. I am writing in an effort to share, with her, and with all the others who feel the ache to help a loved one, and realize nothing they say or do will actually help. I write it to share a small snapshot of real love. Real love. That’s it.

Actually, that is it! Everything I am talking about right now is about real love. Not only the real love that Cory and my sister have for one another, but the proof of the real love that I have for them. This is all that matters. This is the only way you can help. You love. You love deeply and truly.

These are the only words that I know are the “right” words: “I love you.” These three words have been written and said between my sister and I over the past three months countless times. I have told her nearly every single day. It’s what we say when there are no other words to be said. It’s what we say when all we really want is to be sitting next to each other on the couch. It’s what we say when we know either of us is sad or struggling. It says it all. They are three little words with the heaviest and largest amount of truth behind them. They are the words causing the tears to pour down my cheeks right now. They are the words that keep me going every single day.

It’s cheesy, but here is the only call to action I have for today. Think of one person, or multiple people, that you know are struggling with something deep. Picture that friend or family of yours that has lost a loved one, no matter how long ago, and continues to grieve. Imagine your friend or family that is suffering, emotionally, mentally, or even physically from any type of loss, trauma, or mental health issue. Do you have that ache inside to say something or do something to make him/her feel better? Be nice to yourself, and keep it simple. Express the one and only truth. Tell them, “I love you.” Tell them again tomorrow. Repeat.