Photos capture smiles and memories and moments, but nobody ever told you that once the camera captures the moment, you can't get it back. No matter how badly you want to jump into the picture and relive that moment, you can't. Oh, how I wish I could teleport into the wrinkled photographs and blurry Polaroids when everything was okay; when my husband wasn't dying and I wasn't falling apart at the seams.

A tear runs down my face as Tucker appears out of the corner of my eye. I stand from the park bench on shaky legs and drag myself across the prickly grass. I wipe away the tear and keep my expression blank. I can't let his last memories be of me sobbing.

His dark eyes light up as we stand a foot away from each other, and for a second I forget how sick he is and how much it's killing me inside to know that there's nothing I can do. I let out a shaky breath and hold my arms out. Tucker melts into me immediately, despite how much smaller I am than him. As his once muscular arms wrap around my waist and mine around his neck, my facade crumbles and a sob rips through me. My body trembles as I hang on to him for dear life.

"It's okay to cry," he whispers, tickling my ear with his breath. I only cry harder and nuzzle my face further against his shoulder. We stand in the middle of the park for minutes or hours; I really don't know or care. All that matters is that Tucker is here with me right now.

He sets his hands on my shoulders gingerly, so I pull back from his embrace. My tear filled eyes flicker up to his, which are as teary as mine. His hand moves to cup one side of my face.

"Harlow, it's okay," he rasps, his eyes sad. I shake my head.

"No. No, it's not okay, Tuck." I duck my head as more tears threaten to spill. Tucker's hand reaches out and gently tilts my head back up so I can meet his sad eyes.

"Here," he mumbles, and presses something thin and glossy into my trembling hands. I look down at the Polaroid picture and a sad smile ghosts my lips. "It was your sixteenth birthday party; when I told you I loved you," Tucker explains, but I remember. As the day replays in my head I subconsciously twirl the ring around my finger.

"I can't believe you still have this," I say. He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and curls his finger under my chin, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. He pulls back after a few seconds and rests his forehead against mine. His anxious eyes meet mine. His voice cracking, he confesses, "I don't want you to forget me."

"I could never forget you. I love you, Tucker." I wrap my arms around his shoulders and let my fingers play with the hair at the base of his neck. He closes his tired eyes and rests his chin on the top of my head.

"I love you more, Harlow."

"Always so competitive."

"Only with you."

I pull away and smile as a stray tear trails down my face.

Even if I had a camera right now, I wouldn't take a picture of his picture perfect face, even though this could be the last time I see him alive. I know I won't ever forget his face or his laugh or his nerdy quirks. A camera might be able to capture a moment, but it could never fill the void Tucker will leave in my heart.