You’ve been on vacation and from my blog tracker I know you haven’t read anything recently, which is probably for the best. You told me often how much you loved my writing; you even encouraged me to start working on that book I’ve dreamed about writing for years, telling me it would be wonderful and thought-provoking. I told you several times that writing is often how I make sense of the world, which is why the previous entries have been about how I’ve dealt with your decision to leave. Because it was your decision…I wouldn’t have chosen this in a million years.
I drove across the Missouri River with my dad last week, and my first thought was to take a picture of the flooding and send it to you. And then I remembered I can’t do that anymore, and I wonder how long it will take for me to not want to include you in the everyday aspects of my life. I wonder if you’ve had similar thoughts this past week, or if you’ve completely flipped a switch and barely even remember who I am.
Last night I couldn’t sleep, and in a moment of weakness I read some old text messages from a couple of weeks ago. I thought they would make me feel sad, but I actually felt angry, because it seemed obvious to me that you cared about me. Those texts–like everything else–were sweet and funny and flirtatious, but apparently misleading. Remember a month ago, when you told me I was the best thing that happened to you all year? How does that change in a month? Just last Sunday you told me you look forward to me every day, you were amazed by my talents, you cared for me so much. And two days later, you were telling me goodbye. I still feel blindsided, even though I’ve had five days to process it all.
But the point of this letter isn’t to drag out every piece of evidence you provided me to prove you cared. It’s to let you know that I miss you. And I hope you find the happiness that you wanted, the happiness that I apparently couldn’t give you. And to tell you that I won’t blog about us anymore, but I really needed to write for an audience this past week. These past few entries have helped get me through the day without going completely crazy. And my audience, though small, has embraced me and I’ve needed their support. Take care, Goose.
One thought on “Dear Goose.”
I'd like to write a letter…but I won't. Yet.
You are a better person than you will ever realize. I hope he knows that, too.