lost but also what I gained. I didn’t need a photograph to remember Lola because she gave me so much to remember.
My arthritic hand closes a fist over my heart—she’s within there—always.
Once I was well enough, I did everything I knew she’d want me to do. I lived.
I took a vacation with Teddy, and we went to the jazz festival in Birmingham, Alabama. She mentioned this to him when she was being her usual nosy self. I ran in the color vibe, honoring her with each step I took. Her face was on every billboard I could find. We raised over ten million dollars to research the disease which claimed her young life.
I stopped hiding behind my fears, speaking to people who were just like Lola and me. Camille helped any way she could; she was the master of speeches, after all. I never hid the fact that the woman I loved saved my life. I was determined for the world to know just who Lola Van Allen was.
My talks around the country gained the attention of a publishing house in New York. They offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse. Two years later, Lola’s beautiful face was on every bestselling list, worldwide. The story entailed her struggle and mine. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but knowing my Lola would never be forgotten was worth the pain.
Readers from across the globe wrote me, saying how much our story touched them. They would never forget Lola. My soul mate was forever immortalized.
The money I made funded medication trials and groundbreaking procedures to cure brain tumors and heart defects. I ran the biggest cancer research center in the US. Every person who participated in the trials was Lola. I visited them as not only a friend but as their doctor.
Lola has helped save so many lives. Her death was never in vain.
Years passed, and although I never forgot my love for her, I fell in love with someone I know she would approve of. At first, I felt like I was betraying Lola, but her journal, the one I kept tucked away in my bedside table, was proof she wanted me to move on.
I married a fellow doctor who had lost her partner to leukemia years ago. We were both broken, but somehow together, we fit. Her name was Ivy, and we had three wonderful children.
Once June passed, I was the official owner of Strawberry Fields. Ivy understood why I wanted to hold on to it, and we did. We continued my mother’s vision, opening the doors to anyone who needed this magical place as their sanctuary.
These walls have seen so much pain and sorrow, but they’ve also provided a haven for people just like Lola. And just like Scarlett. This place is for them—it’s for every single soul who found their way home.
“I’m fine, son. I’ll be in, in just a minute.” My eldest, Peter, is just like his mother. Forever caring and ensuring the well-being of others.
He hesitates, but when my grandson, Owen, and his twin sister, Olivia, demand ice cream, he knows he better comply.
Peter, Addison, and Lachlan are my children, all of whom I am so proud of. They work here at Strawberry Fields, as my tired body can no longer keep up. Ivy passed five years ago, so now, it’s just me.
I have my kids and grandkids, but they have their own lives to live, and I want them to. Everyone is deserving of this gift called life. Each beat of my heart is confirmation of that.
Opening my eyes, I peer upward, gazing upon the towering giant above me. I made her a promise, and I honor it every day. In life, Lola Van Allen stood out from a crowd…so it only seems fitting that she does the same in death.
A commanding yellow sunflower shoots into the heavens, soaring high above the roses it is planted among. My weathered hands, hands which miss her touch every day, fist the dirt around its roots, feeling the life source shoot through my veins.
This is in honor of her—of the woman whose heart gave me life, not only physically, but emotionally as well. I miss her so much. I was only half living until I met her, and even though I have lived the most extraordinary life thanks to her, I’m ready to see her again.
She will forever be young and beautiful, and I will always remember that girl. I will always remember the way