The first time I saw Roman Dante King, he stuck out like an odd puzzle piece that got mixed up in the wrong box. It wasn’t his blue eyes in the dim light of the bar, the tattoos that covered his arms and hands, or even his arrogant personality. It was something else—something I couldn’t see—that told me he didn’t belong in our small beach town on the Oregon coast.

Elora Mazie Barlow reminded me of a hummingbird zipping from one flower to another, never stopping, never allowing anyone more than a glimpse before she was gone. Never letting anyone in… until me. Then she gave me her smiles that were more valuable than anything I ever owned and wrapped me in her peace without asking for anything in return.

Her tragic story sounded achingly familiar to my own.

Our connection is knotted up in loss. The journey we’re on together will eventually come to an end. But will we be able to untangle the mess of strings that have tied us together?

Will we even want to?