Dear Person That I Am Beginning To No Longer Know,
I am writing this letter at 10:57 p.m. There is about one hour left of Thanksgiving.
Today, one of my best friend’s father died. Her mother died two years ago. Her father died a little before 11 a.m. this morning of a heart attack.
My dad is moving out again. January 8th. This time, it’s for real. He’s already bought an apartment. I keep trying to distract myself by fussing over the fact that his apartment has wall to wall carpeting. I think I’m just not ready to watch him leave.
All week I had been sad about Thanksgiving, because I knew it was the last Thanksgiving I’d probably have with both my mom and my dad. But then, my best friend’s dad died. So I soaked up every smile, every laugh, every conversation, every moment, because the moments were there to capture. To live in. Not to be taken for granted.
I’m starting week three of my ‘cognitive behavioral workbook for anxiety’. Which means, I’m going into week three since you walked out of my life. I hate to phrase it like that out loud, it makes you sound like a bad guy. You’re not. In fact, I think that was one of the best decisions you’ve made for us, deciding that we shouldn’t be in each other’s lives right now. There is so much I am learning about myself, that I don’t think I could have, with you present. I hope the same can be said for you.
My workbook suggested I should try journaling. Okay. So I’m journaling. It’s more in the form of a letter, but it was the easiest place for me to start. I was going to write a poem, but I think my head is too heavy. I just needed to speak.
I think that’s my problem sometimes. Me needing to speak. Feeling some sort of entitlement, like it’s my right-- I mean, free speech is a right I am granted to-- to say whatever I want to whomever I want, void of consequence because it was something I had to say. I’m learning that sometimes, the right thing is to hold your tongue. Sometimes.
Every Thanksgiving, I text just about all my loved ones and I tell them why I’m thankful for them being in my life. The worst part about this Thanksgiving, was that I couldn’t text you, the one person, that I’m thankful for the most.
I thought about it. I went back and forth with myself. But I couldn’t do it. In being thankful for you, in loving you, I knew saying nothing, would mean more to you than saying how much you meant to me.
For the first time in my life, I felt like you were truly gone. No, for the first time in my life, I knew, this time, you are truly gone. My heart has never ached the way it has today.
My workbook is teaching me how to disassociate blame from shame. I never realized how much shame I carried with me, inside of my self. I’m not shaming myself for this, but it’s truly no wonder we didn’t make it. I didn’t love myself nearly enough for the both of us. And I never even knew it until you left me.
Life is short. We would tell each other this. Always at the wrong time to each other. I think we always had bad timing. We just never looked down at our clocks to notice. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you. That I don’t want you back in my life. That I don’t think to myself, “You’re getting better. You two can do this together.” Life is short. I could die tomorrow. But that is not a reason to not let you go. To not let me go.
Life is so short, that sometimes, you don’t even realize that someone is gone, until after they’re gone.
You are gone. You are truly gone. There is no coming back. Going back. There is more. Oh, there is so much more. But today, you are gone. And tomorrow, you will be gone. And every day, I will feel like a part of me has ripped out of my body until I don’t.
That’s life. But I am nonetheless so, so thankful, that you were in my life. And I am so, so thankful, that you set both of our lives free. Even if losing you, is the greatest loss I have so far ever endured, I will always be thankful for having loved you.
“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading - treading - till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through -”
