I remember this time last year, looking at you across the dining room table. Our families surrounded us as we happily ate, listening to you tell a story. The air was crisp outside and we had just gotten in from our annual flag football game. Every time I glanced over at you during dinner, I was reminded of how lucky I was to have found you. My mind jumped to what life would be like when we grew up and had our own Thanksgivings. You caught my glance and gave me the “when is this over so I can kiss you” look.
You had loved me since the beginning, even when I was an awkward brace-faced little girl who thought it was so cool to scrunch her hair and wear AĂ©ropostale. You kept it to yourself though, holding back your feelings until years later when life woke me up and I realized I was head over heels in love with you too.
You were my first of firsts: my first boyfriend, my first kiss, and eventually, when we grew up, my first of the biggest first. Looking back, I never would have guessed what would become of us. We were so good, so happy, and everyone loved us together.
In high school, you went to public and I was shipped away to private. I met a popular jock and fell under his spell. We kept in touch though, living in the same town and continuing to do everything together. We loved walking on the green, sitting by the docks, and getting ice cream. I hated your dog, but went on hikes with her anyway because you loved her. As soon as we each passed our drivers test, we were the first to break the law and drive each other around. You fell deeper and deeper in love with me, and I was falling in love with you too, but was too terrified to admit it, even to myself. I was caught up in the feeling of being wanted, and being popular with my older boyfriend that I had nothing in common with. You never dated anyone though; you knew you loved me since we sat on that library bench and you leaned over and kissed me for the first time. You were waiting, waiting for me to wake up and see that we were meant to be.
One night, after discussing the possibility of getting back together with my emotionally abusive boyfriend, we were fighting like crazy. Our friendship was on the line, and I thought I was going to lose you. You told me that I didn’t love him and if I went back with him you wouldn’t be in my life anymore. This was all true, I didn’t love him; I never even liked him. I had dated him because of a desire to be loved and wanted. Tears streamed down both my cheeks and yours, hurtful words flying, and then it hit me. I was so desperately in love with you, and you were only trying to show me you felt the same.
Telling our families about our discovery was no surprise to them. My family loved you like their son and your family adored me. How could they not when we were with each other 24/7 and became each other’s confidante? We had watched our families go through divorces, health problems, financial instability and everything else that life threw at us. You were my solider, always picking me up after a hard day, and always knowing what to say and when to just hold me instead.
The summer before we got to college, there wasn’t a minute we weren’t together. Taking walks on the beach and taking the boat out, eating pizza, drinking on the couch, and talking about life were some of the things I loved to do the most with you. We talked about how excited we were for college and how scared we were that the real world was quickly approaching, but I had you so it wasn’t so scary. I was the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life because everything just felt natural and complete.Â
College came and we both experimented. Long distance was hard, but we tried to make it work. We pretended at least that we were happy being together when really we were growing apart. This is when the never-ending cycle of fights began. My anger towards you stemmed from missing you and wanting to be with you all the time. Yours stemmed from jealousy and the fear of loosing me to a D-1 athlete who you said you could never compete with. I was obsessed with my new job, while your focus was on school. We didn’t have time to talk every day and it was getting to be way too much for us to handle. I had to learn all good things come to an end and if you love someone, let them go.
I didn’t know how to live without you. I still don’t. Not talking to you, not knowing how you are, it kills me. I feel like a part of me is missing for good. You taught me how to love, and no one else will ever be able to make me feel the same way. So why do I still write to you in a journal I was hoping to read on our wedding day? When I can, I write about my day, what I’m thinking, and anything that made me think of you. Maybe in a way I feel like it’s the only piece I have left.
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