A Letter to You...

Hello,

There's no better way to begin this letter than to say... Tell me... Tell me about that day... When I told you over the phone that I thought it would be best that you leave... What was going through your mind after we got off the phone and went back to work... When you walked into the room and found your things neatly packed and folded... What was going through your mind as you stood there, then walked over and sat on the bed...

You deserve to tell me.

I need to hear just how damaging my actions - inspired by my fears, my assumptions, my impatience, my wavering lack of communication - have been to you.

I can tell you what it's been like for me, but you must have an idea - considering the many attempts I have made to reach out to you.

Your consistent lack of response a form of punishment, which to an extent has been well deserved.

The first couple of weeks I mourned the living. Does that make sense? I've experienced the mourning of a passing loved one and I must say the latter is worse. Because I know we all eventually must take a last breath.

Knowing that you are still out there, somewhere breathing - not here, not near - has been hell.

The later weeks I found myself afraid. Afraid that I'd run into to you. I'd look for you, still do, to avoid you.

I'm afraid of, if and when, that moment comes. Will we be alone? Will we be in public? Will you be with someone? Will you face me? Will you avoid me? Will you make a scene? Will you yell at me? Will you make me feel they way you must have felt that day?

Could I possibly feel what you felt that day?

I don't think I could. We both process things differently.

I make assumptions, because I don't know. The fear of not knowing.

I find myself lately coming to terms with the possibility that I may never see you again. That the several times you've said your still dealing with "the hurt" is your way of brushing me off, hoping that eventually I'll grow tired of your responses and give up.

I can be quite persistent though.

I have also started coming to terms with the possibility or reality that maybe our time is just up.

It happens.

This could just be a bump on the road for us, or a fork on the road.

But we won't know that until we face each other again, if that ever happens.

If we never cross paths again...

Thank You

Thank You for loving me. Thank You for hurting me.

Because of You I have learned a little bit more about myself.

I hope I have done the same for you.

I Love You,
Me