I’ve been meaning to write for a long time now. Truly, I’m not sure what to say.
I’ve been mad at you, and despite the cliché I can hardly remember why.
I remember making peace with you, with what I don’t understand, with who you are and what I am. But for some reason I’ve still been mad, distant, foreign.
Last night I sat under the trees with one of the greatest men I have ever known. And as I looked up into the sky I asked you, “Do you see? Do you see this? Do you see what is happening here?” I believe you did. And I think you and I would agree, it was beautiful.
The world says “Be careful who you give your heart to because you never get all of the pieces back.” But my heart is fuller now than it ever has been before, because he gave me his heart too, and I get to keep those pieces, because he would want me to.
What a beautiful exchange.
And now for the first time I can cry a little, because it was good, because we are better of it, and because no matter what, I know it’s going to be ok.
And now love beckons from all directions, like a warm peaceful glow. As you know, I’ve always been afraid to wind up alone, but I now feel like I’ll never truly be alone again. Maybe it’s the brilliant yellow sun pouring through my window. But the grief that was expected is more of a respect and appreciation for this privilege and hope that seems to be the hidden language of the world – that unreasonable, indefinable connection that places the beat in our pulse, the flush in our cheeks, the laugh on our lips, and the joy in our heart.
So thanks for seeing.
Maybe we’ll talk again soon.