Still, my thoughts drift to you. I wish it weren’t so, I beg to forget you, but every time I finally feel I’ve let go, thoughts of you return. It’s as though I am incapable of accepting our distance; as though I cannot grasp the fact that we have given up. Surrendered.
To say I can’t imagine a world living without you would seem to most to be childish and immature, but there could never be enough words to describe what it feels to have you gone. It’s like a world lacking oxygen; I’m suffocating, gasping for air, but coming up empty.
There is a darkness growing where you once lit up my days. Everything seems to be falling short. The depth you once brought to my life has left a shallow feeling in my bones. You were the sun in my universe and now I am left in limbo.
It is you and you alone. Take a look around you and realize that the world isn’t against you. It isn’t unfair, it isn’t cruel, it isn’t something to take for granted. Life is what you make of it, so if you think the world is out to get you, things will make it seem that way. You can sit and whine about what in your life seems faulty, but if you are displeased, how can you sit around complaining and expect that to change a thing? Happiness is in your hands, but you choose what to do with it. Do you keep it close from day to day, or do you throw away at first chance?
I enjoy the way that you kiss me. I enjoy the way you make sure I hold you close. I enjoy laying in bed, watching movies with you, night after night, even if I’ve already seen the film before. I enjoy eating tomatoes (which I normally hate) when you cook for me, you know, the ones you grew yourself. I enjoy the way your smile is so contagious that I smile so big too. I enjoy lounging in your bed alone, waiting for you to get out of the shower. I enjoy the way your eyes get so big, as though something I did excited you. I enjoy my time with you, no matter what we do. I enjoy you.
I don’t know when I got to the point where I realized that life goes on without you. Was it when you kissed me goodbye at the airport? When I looked down on you from 10,000 feet in the air? Could it have been those many occasions when you never called like you said you would have? All that really matters is that I reached and passed that point, wherever it was.
I was a fool to your facade. Perhaps you really are a gentleman; perhaps you are a selfish son of a bitch. How foolish was I to even think that I knew who you were when in reality, to strive to be a man of mystery is all you do. Unsolved and soon to be forgotten.
I’m only writing these words down so some time in the future I can laugh at it all; at the man I thought I was in love with, but in the end meant not a damn thing.
I would say I wish you the best, but I don’t have a hope left for you.
This is a bit personal and I hope my father doesn’t mind me sharing this, but as I read this email on Easter afternoon it nearly brought tears to my eyes. My father is the greatest man I will ever know and it isn’t fun to live so far away from a big part of your heart. His email was in response to one I sent after I began reading a book titled, You Can’t Catch Death; it is a daughter’s memoir after her own father’s suicide. The thought of my father ever dying put this tremendous fear in my mind for the following days until I received his email back. Well, here it goes:
Hmmmm, I don’t think I shared with you my one-time fleeting consideration of suicide. It happened on my way back home, to bed (I worked graveyard at BART), after a “bad day.” The trip to the Solano County courthouse was interrupted by a speeding ticket, at the time I didn’t own a car and was borrowing a coworker’s. When I arrived, the judge ruled that mom was to get primary custody, and I was given a packet from the Psychology counselor which, as I interpreted it, said I was a terrible father (in truth, it did not say that; but it did strongly imply that mom was a better parent than I – and I felt so strongly otherwise that I construed this to mean that my whole reality which was that I saw myself as first and foremost, a Father was shattered) and so I felt that if what I saw as truth was completely incongruent with society, then I must be irreparable, and so best to end it by purposely crashing on I-80 around Pinole. A split second later, I realized the selfishness and absurdity of such an act – because my whole reason for being (you two) would have to manage without me. (I am chuckling, because regardless of the good I have ever exhibited to you two, I have utterly disproven my initial hypothesis by going off the deep end a few years later, by opting to leave California).
I have been hearing very kind words directed at me, these last three weeks, from coworkers and such. Your email here, and a couple of instances at work, have nearly brought tears of humility uot of my eyes; from my heart, thank you for your loving sentiments – alright, picture me fighting tears, now wiping them. I love you. I explained my term “loving you”, yes? In English grammar, I believe the –ing is (its been ten years since I started using it, I can’t find what I saw) to me, “I am loving you” is a way to say that I have, do, and will always, love you.
I asked you and Amorette, back in the mid-late 1990’s, to consider “what I am” and if I were to ever die, would “dad” no longer exist. I wanted you two to consider what we each might actually be. Be sure, Jasmine, that you are quite a lot more than a beautiful woman that many of my male coworkers would marry if they had the chance. In other words, you are partly a breathing human – I guess I feel you and I, all humans, have a supreme value besides our corporeal existence/worth. I guess that I suppose that all the individual parts (despite how much they are interwoven with other parts of us) can diminish or cease to exist – but that the essence of us lives on forever.