I sat on the floor just now and read all of TJ's love letters from the years. I noticed I stopped breathing pouring over each one. I'd hold it up to my face and press the paper against my forehead, somehow trying to get closer to him that way. It amazed me that the object I held against my face had once been held in his fingers. It's funny how we humans clutch our hearts when we're feeling strong emotions. As if they really will fall apart if our hand wasn't there...
I've selected a few notes that moved me so much more this night. They are all lovely and sweet; these are the ones that gave me great pause. They had me either looking upwards with a "thank you" falling from my lips, or rocking me with soundless cries, horrified by the thought of all that is lost.
|He drew this for me for Valentine's Day one year in college. The unending knot above us is a depiction of the earrings he gave me as a gift.|
In May of 2001 he wrote: "The promise of you is what raises me out of bed every morning. Without the knowledge that improving my life will improve our life, continuing would seem almost impossible. The memory of you both hurts and alleviates me. Which part I choose to focus my attention on is what keeps me breathing. I know that both our futures will be the same intimate, passionate story. I love you. -T.J."
I still cannot believe that I have to go on without him. I could have never imagined that my future would be any different than his. And then I find myself here... a year and almost ten months later.
In October of 2005 he wrote: "Hi, I hope you're having a good day so far. I know that in the morning I usually don't want to be bothered, but once I'm at work I always wish that I would have held on to you a little longer. TJ"
I've spent hours upon hours wondering if holding each other longer, kissing each other more often, making love over and over would have made a difference for me now. We held each other daily. We kissed each other over a million times, I'm sure of it. We spent entire weekends under the covers together, only getting up to use the bathroom or gather food to bring back into bed. Would any extra moments like this have made a difference now? If we had held each other longer could I have the ability to remember what that felt like?
And lastly, I'll leave you with the note that wrought a prayerful "thank you" whispered through an emotionally choked throat. I'm so glad he knew. For me, nothing has changed. If anything I love him more.