I’m sorry. I don’t know where else to put this, so I’ll put it here:
Francis, I’ve given up on the idea that we will ever cross paths in this life. It breaks my heart a bit — there’s so much I want to tell you; so many things I never had the strength to tell you. But I can’t keep searching and waiting.
For a very long time, I’ve had this silly idea that one day you would show up, and I would immediately know that it was you, somehow. You promised you’d look for me — I’d know you anywhere, even if I was meeting you for the first time. I understand now that this isn’t how the world works. But I need to get this out there, somewhere, anywhere.
I love you, Francis. There’s so much of you that I still carry with me, even with the years of absence. You were right about the world, I think. About art, about people, about the connection in everything, about love. The world is terribly cruel and the strongest thing we can do is be compassionate. Kindness is an act of rebellion in a society that values the “every man for himself” mentality. I get it now. I’m sorry that I could never allow myself to understand it back then.
I still talk to you, sometimes, even though you’re nowhere to be found. When I’m facing an emotional fork in the road, a difficult decision, a great distress, when I’m so lost and have no idea how I’ll get through, I ask myself, “What would Francis say? What would he tell me to do, if he were here?” The answer is always, in your voice, make the phone call. Open the letter. Stop depriving yourself. Do what will make you happy, do whatever will fill your heart and don’t worry about the rest. (I try, although I’m not very good at it yet.)
As for how I’m doing now, I want you to know this: I try to remember to hold onto those things I mentioned before — compassion, love, empathy. I try to do right by people whenever I can, and to never lose sight of the humanity in everyone. How together we all are. I’ve found someone who loves me, and I love very much. I think you’d like him, or at least I hope you would. I hope you would be proud of the choices I’ve made and how different I am today. Different in the ways that matter, and similar in the ways that don’t.
I miss you so much, Francis. I think that I’ll always miss you. There will always be a piece of me that wonders where you are, how you’re doing, if you’re close by. And wherever you are, I hope that you’re happy, and healthy, and that the sun is bright. I hope that this life is good to you. I love you forever, in every lifetime. I’m sorry I never told you.
I believe you have to be out there somewhere, and I hope that somehow this will reach you. And if not, well. Maybe next time.
