Someone asked me about you yesterday. Then she told me I didn’t have to talk about it if I didn’t want to.
I wanted to.
I always want to.
I remember when we were at that party at the beach. I remember I wore that skanky red Canada shirt that someone from the hostel gave me. You wore a white tank. I left you to find a porta-potty. I remember that song came on, the song that led to pb & fluff sandwiches. I remember it stopped me like one of those electric fences stops a dog…you know what I’m talking about.
I had to find you.
I remember pushing through people, so many people, because in that moment the most important thing I had to do was hold your hand before the chorus came.
I remember you met me in the middle. You smiled because you understood. I remember how happy my heart felt. Our friend looked at us and told us “that’s what love looks like”.
I think he was right. I’ve never seen love more clearly.
I guess sometimes you come to a point where you can no longer meet each other in the middle. Where there are more important things on your agenda than to hold on tight. I guess that’s what your 20-somethings look like, a balance of holding on and letting go.
That realization still makes my stomach hurt sometimes.
But I’m not angry. We only do the best we can. And we only love until we can’t anymore.
So the best I can do now is to be thankful for the story I was given and for the standard of love you set in my life. A love that I’m sure as hell could give Nicholas Sparks a run for his money. Or John Green’s A Fault in Our Stars.
Damn that fucking story. I cried for days.
But we’re alive. So maybe that’s not a great example. Thank God you’re alive. Thank God you’re still a light people get to feel.
I still feel you.
When I put on my cheap turquoise climbing shoes I feel your heart. When I sit and struggle to meditate I feel your soul. Or when I’m on my mat I feel the sense of peace you bring to the present moment. I try to channel you.
When I feel free I feel your spirit.
I just feel you. A lot.
I was thinking about the idea of there being faults in our stars. I guess nobody is perfect. I guess we all have faults. We all have shortcomings – places in time and space and love stories where we fall short.
I think I’ve decided we never did.
I definitely struggled with that a lot though.
“Where did we fall short?”
But then I realized that everytime that song comes on the radio my heart stops. Like literally stops. And I’m not paralyzed by the “almosts” or the “what ifs.” Those don’t exist.
What hits me hard enough to knock the wind out of my lungs are all the moments we NEVER fell short. The overwhelming moments when we loved well and did it with grace and sweet patience. That’s what makes it hard to breathe.
Because this wasn’t easy.
Culture and language barriers make things hard. The distance and the time. The world isn’t always working in your favor, sometimes you have to coax it on to your side. Will it to be.
Maybe that’s why sometimes I feel like my world has stopped. But when that happens, I will it to start again. Because what kind of woman would I be if I didn’t?
In July you sent me a quote about choosing a great woman as part of a spiritual journey. “A great woman is an inspiration” it said. A man can grow as a result of a great woman. I agree. BUT a great LOVE– no matter the length of time you hold onto it – that – that’s the real inspiration.
And the growth was in the intimate details of our togetherness. I see growth in paper flowers, mattresses with no sheets, Forever 21 & Febreze, movie trailers, decks of cards, quick-draws & superheroes.
I see love in rock, on rooftops at 2 am, in muffins, in plane rides, in blue eyes.
I see it everywhere.
And for that I thank you.