It’s April, 2024. I woke up feeling heavy.
I rush to the bedside, grab a sheet of paper. And scribble down before the thought leaves me. It was almost like I wanted to write down the letter before I lost the nerve to send it again.
“Hi love, it has been long. How are you doing? You must be surprised to find this letter from me.
But today, I woke up and wondered if you were putting more sugar cubes in your tea now than from when I knew you. Do you still cool down in the balcony after your workout? That’s when we used to have our morning calls. How do you engage yourself now during your cooldown? Do you still check yourself incessantly on video calls? Do you still wear that red tee I like?
Will I ever know this new person you might have become now?
They say grief hits in waves. Sometimes, it’s the thought of the beautiful ways we were together. Sometimes, it is thought of the person you were to me. Sometimes, it’s the future I imagined for us. Sometimes, it’s the intimacy I miss.
I remember feeling like I lost so much in a single moment that day. The person I thought I was, the person I thought you were, how my future would look, my self-trust, my belief in my decision making, The idea of a future itself. Everything blurred out. I could no longer see a tomorrow that isn’t filled with pain.
I lost the feeling of having known someone. It is interesting, how my worth was related to knowing a person inside out. Every inch of you, how you thought, the meaning of every breath you took and look you gave. I beamed at how I understood all of it. Have you changed a lot now, my love?
Today, it’s the grief of unknowing someone. That I don’t know the person you are today…That there will be a day when I know nothing about the person who meant everything to me at one point in life. One day, I could see you and not understand a joke you cracked or a look you gave or even why you ordered something in a hotel.
Is it weird that this thought hurts?
Those were difficult times. Deaths and sorrow all around. It felt silly almost…to grieve a living person. I was expected to think bigger, to be grateful for our safety. For our health. For our breath. But I knew even back then, I was grieving more than a relationship. I was grieving the person I’d been for the past two years. The girl in love. The girl who looked out for you more than she did for herself.
Did I push it all down hastily back then…did it find its way back up last night, when I found our old letters?
Is it weird that I’m tearing up?
You’re right. There are no reasons sometimes. There are no answers sometimes. I guess the whole act of letting go is also letting go of the need to understand, the need to comprehend, the need to wrap our heads around every single minute detail of the situation. It’s about making peace with what is. Making peace with the unknown.
I do try though. On some days, I am running away. Some, crawling. On some days, I can barely breathe.
But today? Today, I’m just standing still. Sitting down for a moment of respite.
Lost on the path forward. Weighed down by everything that has ever gone wrong. I have run back before, even before I reached the door. I wonder if it is growth, or healing……..or just mere common sense this time around. That this time…I don’t want to give up. I want to grieve.
I just need a minute of rest right now before I push forward, even if it means the path ahead would break me down further. I’m pulled back to everything familiar… everything comforting. Everything I loved.
But today, I just want a minute. A minute of calm. I’m letting everything that hurts wash me over. But staying still…carefully still, afraid that the slightest glitch will have me disintegrating. I’m holding onto every memory and hope with all I’ve got.
Because it’s time I showed myself I have it in me to walk away when it’s time.
I wish I could send you this letter. But I just realized I don’t know where you live anymore….and that is okay. Right?
It’s been 3 years since we spoke. Is it weird that I still carry all this with me?