These eyes
My A was a thinker. You could always see the wheels turning behind his eyes; he never stopped thinking, not for a moment. It made him one of the most intelligent and interesting people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, but it also made it hard for him to really relax. One of my favorite pictures of him is a pair of screenshots I took while we were chatting, and he is making his “thinking face.” It is one that anyone who knew him would instantly recognize, but it was not among the pictures I shared with his family and friends. That one was just for me. It is so quintessentially him.
A had beautiful hazel eyes. I, too, have hazel eyes, and it was yet another “coincidence” connecting us that we marveled at, among so many other uncanny similarities. My hazel eyes are green-brown, but his were a gorgeous green-blue that I loved to look into so deeply that eventually he’d laugh nervously, and bashfully look away. I commented on them from time to time, and he once told me that he loved that I noticed his eyes. Apparently, any previous feminine attention he’d received had overlooked them, though I don’t know how. They sparkled like jewels.
The first time I met his sister, I was startled to see she had the same unusual green-blue eyes. It is more than a little disconcerting to be looking again into eyes you know are closed forever, the eyes you loved in someone else’s face and not theirs at all, but so close, your heart aches.