Kaskade’s concert on July 27 marked the last blissful evening that N and I would ever spend together. Before the event, I had recorded the broadcast on TV and excitedly planned to watch the replay. Now, hesitation sunk in. That night was riddled with personal memories, most of which linked back to him. How would it feel to view the playback? Was I ready to revisit that place? My looming fear was that watching the video would cause more hurt – the same hurt I’ve been fighting to subdue all weekend. But with an impromptu burst of confidence, I pressed “play.”
The moment the video started, goosebumps seized my body. The sweeping views of the arena and the elated faces in the crowd were mind-blowingly beautiful. Suddenly, I was transported back in time. There we stood, on our private upper-level balcony with an expansive view of the venue. Waves of giddyness consumed the air. The beat pulsed through my core, gripping my heart and making it dance. I was wrapped in N’s arms, our bodies were intertwined and moved in tandem. In that very second, the building felt empty; it was just the two of us and the music.
As I continued to watch the concert footage, feelings of sadness never took hold. Only pure joy. The video helped me remember every incredible moment from that evening. I’m grateful that I got to experience the show, and even more grateful that I experienced it with N. I now realize that just because I’m moving on, it doesn’t mean that I have to bury the memories. It’s okay to look back at those moments in time with him when I felt genuinely happy and carefree. Right now, Kaskade’s second-to-last song of the concert (“I Remember”) is playing in the background. The timing is uncanny.