If you were still alive, my boyfriend could have met you in person. He could have hugged you. He could have shaken your hand. He could have looked you in the eyes and introduced himself.
If you were still alive, you would have had the chance to meet the love of my life, my soulmate, the person who has been with me through hell and back.
I think you would have gotten along. I think you would have been proud of my choice. I think you would have pulled me aside, out of earshot from him, and told me that I have never looked happier. I think you would have given your approval.
If you were still alive, you would have bought holiday presents for him. You would have shared drinks with him. You would have became close with him. You would have bragged to your friends about what good taste I have and how you are relieved I ended up with somebody good for me.
If you were still alive, my boyfriend wouldn’t have to hear the same second-hand stories during every family dinner because there are only a limited amount of memories we have to share of you. He wouldn’t have to smile politely when your name came up in conversation and agree about how he would have loved to meet you.
If you were still alive, he could have met you in person. We could have been one, big happy family. But that is not the way things panned out.
Instead of having dinners sitting across from you, he is forced to look at old, faded photographs of you that do not do you justice. Instead of hearing you speak, he is forced to listen to stories of you that were really only funny if you were there. Instead of getting to know you and love you, he is forced to take my word for what a good person you were.
I hate that my boyfriend never had the chance to meet one of the most important people in my world. I hate how the two people I loved the most never ended up crossing paths.
Even though he feels like he knows you because of how often I have spoken about you, he will never understand completely and I find that unfair. It doesn’t seem right.
If I had met him earlier in life or if you had died later in life, then at least he would have met you. At least he would have spent a few minutes with you. At least he would have known you.
It bothers me that he knows your name, but he doesn’t know the most important things about you. He doesn’t know the sound of your voice. He doesn’t know the pitch of your laugh. He doesn’t know the tilt of your smile outside of photographs. He hasn’t gotten the chance to learn nearly enough.
I wish you were still alive — for a million different reasons — but one of the biggest is so you could have met him.