• Andrew

    by  • November 8, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Miss You, Those Gone Before Us • 0 Comments

    Triple A,
    I know you’ll never read this, but I have a lot to say to you. I know you’re dead, but I can feel your prescense around me all the time. I know that when I wake from a nightmare, it is your arms I feel around me.

    I miss you, Andrew. I miss laying on the floor with you, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. I miss holding your hand, sitting on the ground in the park, even though there were benchs not eight feet away because we had been chasing each other around. I even miss when you and Michael would steal my phone and text whoever was texting me, saying the most ridiculous things.

    I still love you. You must know that our relationship was the longest I’ve ever been in, even if it was off and on. You know I supported you when you went to the military academy, even if that meant never getting to see you. I still have the shirt you gave me, still wear it all the time. I even kept the boots you left, wear them when I miss you most, even though they’re too big. I can still see your face in my mind, still remember the taste of your lips, salty, sweet and spicy. Thai food was your favorite.

    I was torn when you deployed. I was young then, but being a military child, I knew the risks. I wrote so many letters to you, but you couldn’t give me an address. I got one phone call from you, because you were about to go on a dangerous mission, and you wanted to tell me you loved me, that you wanted to marry me. You were years older than me, but I said I’d marry you in a heartbeat.

    You never got the chance to propose to me, yet I still considered you my fiance. I was told by your CO that you were dead. That broke me. I was lost in a fog, never knowing what I was doing. I forgot to eat, rarely slept. But I started healing. Then, I got a letter from you. You weren’t dead, amd you wanted to see me. So we met up again. We spent hours laying on a blanket in the grass, staring up at the moon and stars, catching up. You were always the romantic, always wanting to do those little things for me.

    I remember our last kiss. You held me in your arms, looked down into my eyes, leaned down and kissed me. You were so gentle, and it was so sweet. We kept eye contact, until we were startled apart by that old owl. We laughed it off, and talked for the first time about our age difference. You were 19 at the time, and I had just turned 14. It’s been three years, my love. But everyone knew we were in love. We knew each other since before I was born, right? We had our arguments, our fights, our bouts of not talking, but we always made up, we always went back to being friends, to being inseperable.

    I remember that your parents kicked you out. I begged my parents to let you share my room. I mean, we had been camping together, we’d gone skinny dipping together, so what harm could possibly come? They agreed, so you spent three nights with me. We held hands, talking most of the night until we fell asleep. I often woke up on the floor with you, curled up next to you, my head on your shoulder and your arm around me. I can imagine that your arm fell asleep and hurt, but you didn’t move me.

    You went to visit your grandparents in Canada after that. You called every night, knowing that I was an insomniac, and your voice helped me to sleep. One night, your grandmother called. I wish we had talked under less tragic circumstances. She told me, crying, that you had been in an automobile accident with your grandfather. Your car had been hit by a drunk driver while you were driving home from the grocery store. Your grandfather died on site, before the medics got there, and you were in a coma. It was the week before Thanksgiving. My parents wouldn’t let me go see you. I was torn.

    A few days later, your grandma called again. You had come out of the coma, and wanted to talk to me. We talked for a bit, but you went back into the coma. The doctor came on and told me that it was highly unlikely that you, my Triple A, would come to again. I got a call the next week, again from your grandma. She was delivering a message from you. She told me that you loved me, that you meant every word you ever said to me. I started crying, because I knew what was going to come next. You were dead, but had come to for a few minutes, said that, then died. I never got to see your smile one last time. I never got to hold your hand, or run my fingers over your jarhead haircut.

    Your grandma sent me the ring you were going to propose to me with. I wear it from time to time.

    Andrew, I still love you. I always will. You were and are my everything.

    Your little lioness

    I’ll try to do as you would have wanted me to. I’ve tried moving on. I’m enlisting in the Navy, you know. I might even get to see some of your teammates, see where you went to basic. You know our bucket list? I’m trying to do all of those things. It isn’t quite the same without your hand in mine, but I can feel you with me.

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