Found this amongst the remnants of my past: a letter to someone I once loved deeply, written when I realized it was time to let go. It broke my heart all over again to know I couldn’t maintain a connection to him and move forward with my life, but that dull ache was nothing compared to the agony when he’d ask me to leave my current life and marry him, or his confession that I was the only regret he had in life: he should never have let me go.
Love–that magical, mystical, often inexplicable connection we have to other human beings, whether family, friends, lovers–is, in the end, the only thing that matters during our brief time on this planet. I am blessed to have loved deeply on numerous occasions.
This is a letter to one of the ones who will remain as much a part of me as the marrow in my bones. I’d take the pain of loving passionately followed by the agony of wishing-I-could-die heartache a thousand times over, rather than a life of so-so.
I maintain this fantasy that you’re a tangible part of my life, but it’s not reality. It isn’t healthy for me to put so much stock in hoping to hear from you, and wanting there to be a real chance to see you in the near future. And dreaming that we’re going to run away together: I can be a photographer/ writer while you trap food for dinner. Ridiculous!
You are the love of my life, R.H. I’ll never be able to let go of you if we continue to communicate.
I want to share things with you, and it became obvious last week when I attempted to do so, that I am not a real part of your life. And I understand.
I had this sudden flash in the middle of my other writing this evening- as so often happens when I delve into my memory, one popped up of you. Two actually (one usually leads to another…): the night we made love in Wapiti as the full moon rose over the mountain and washed the valley and our room in its blue glow (on my list of the most romantic moments in my life). And, the time you sent toast through airport security because my breakfast wasn’t ready when I was called to board (one of the many moments I fell in love with you).
And, then all the times I looked at you and knew you didn’t love me the way I loved you. I’m afraid that truth remains painfully obvious. As much as I tell myself time has healed that wound, the scar continues to ache on occasion. Which, in turn, makes me feel pathetic. (I’m not looking for continual penance on your part, just acknowledging to myself that some things in life may never heal) I still love so many things about you: your kindness, and tenderness, your voice, your laugh, your sense of humor, your ridiculous gas. But, I’m in love with you in my memory.
I’m fine, I’m thriving, but I can’t walk this fine line between loving you and living my current life.
I’m writing to say goodbye.
I wish you love, and happiness, and health, and prosperity. You deserve it. Be good to yourself, and kind to those who are in your life (Especially [name extracted]. Perhaps you can mend your relationship. She needs your love and support right now, and maybe you’ll find a way to feel what you once had together. Give it an honest try.) Life is hard, R. Don’t chase off the people who love you.
Yours. Then, Now, Always.