• I Still Miss You

    by  • September 8, 2015 • * Safe for Work *, Grief • 2 Comments

    I sit on the edge of my -our- bed and slide my hands along the silken blankets you choose on our honeymoon. They came from your favourite shop, they’re your favourite colour, and they still smell of your favourite perfume. I guess that’s why I kept them.

    I reach to the drawer of the bedside desk and take out the photo I still keep. Our wedding photo. You were so happy, so young. I bet you’ve hardly changed, in the years we’ve been apart. Oh, but dear, I’ve changed. You leaving has aged me. I think I must be years older now, at least in my head. And I never smile like I did that day, not now, not without you.

    I sigh as I hear the front door bell, wipe the glass of the picture frame free of tears, dry my eyes, compose myself and leave your memories for another day. I’ve got to go, love, your daughter’s home, and she must never know.

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    2 Responses to I Still Miss You

    1. peter c
      September 8, 2015 at 12:28 pm

      No one knows how she might reply, but perhaps if we could see into her secret heart, it might sound something like this…

      Hello my first deepest love. I’m sorry you are still in pain and pining for what was lost so long ago. We were young then! It seemed like everything was easier because we were together; we could conquer the whole world. Do you remember? No challenge was too big, because we were young and in love and thought we would be so forever.

      A breakup like ours changes everyone, it changed me too. It took me a long time to adapt, to come to terms with what happened. I cried and wept, as I know you cried and wept. I wondered if it would ever stop. And then one day I realized that God did not give us the gift of changing the past, ever. He has given us the gift of a life still left to live, with all the cracks and shards that we accumulate as we grow older. I realized that life still expected something of me, that I owed something to life. I owed taking the years left to me, and building something strong and enduring, something that would give me respect for myself. I learned that it is not enough to sigh for what is lost, that we must also strive for what we can yet become. If we do this, with great courage and tenacity, then we can become a well that nourishes others, we can fill our heart back up and the overflow can fill the hearts of others.

      That’s what has happened to me, since we went apart. There are no more silences and tears; there is gratefulness for what we did have, when we had it, but also a deep thankfulness that I was given the same chance that you, too, still have. To craft a life of purpose, to seek out love, to become an example of what is possible rather than a victim of what is lost. When you face one direction, the other direction must then be behind you. We cannot choose both, we face towards what we are becoming, or towards what we have been.

      For the sake of what we shared, please take what I am offering as your path forward, too. The meaning of your life is not what we have lost, it is what you can build as the best example of a life well lived, starting now. I was proud of us, so long ago. I know you can choose a path that makes you proud of yourself, as well. Stop living with memories and start again to build them, to treasure them, to share them with those who hurt more than you do. And, somehow, I will know.




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    2. Author@Peter C
      September 10, 2015 at 2:03 am

      That’s actually an interesting thought, and it is quite reassuring too. Thank you, however true that may or may not have been, it’s momentarily soothed my hurting heart and my yearning for her.




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