You were so handsome. Waiting there for me. I was so glad we did the tuxes and the dress and the whole nine yards instead of just a suit and a dress.
Everything was perfect. From the silly invitations we designed ourselves to the simple reception in the church basement. Simple. Personal. Perfect.
I loved my dress. It was exactly what I wanted and it was exactly what I could afford. I felt more beautiful than I had ever felt in my entire life. And you even said so.
I knew it was right. I knew we’d be happy. I knew we’d be forever.
Twenty years later…
You’re there and I’m here. We don’t talk - we can’t talk because I won’t let us. It got dark and ugly and brutal. It went from forever to fourteen years in the blink of an eye.
I never thought there wouldn’t be a forever, even when I told you I needed time. I always thought you’d be there at the end of that time. I always thought you’d be there along the way, figuring it out with me, taking your own time to see where your heart was.
But I guess you did.
And now we’re here. Forever is forgotten. And I’m not sure what it all meant, what it all means.
And I’ve lost faith in forever. I’ve even lost faith in fourteen years.
And I still miss you every single day.
And I can’t help but wonder if you miss me. And I mean MISS ME. Me. The me that was there at the end, not the one you imagined me to be.
And taking this blog and putting up on stage just brings it all too close, too present. And the emotions are impossible to sort out. Love, fear, anger, passion, pain, resentment, faith, trust… all of it. And I don’t know what was real anymore and what is just my clouded memory.
But I do know I remember that day. And I do know that I loved you more than I ever imagined I could. And I do remember how perfect and how beautiful and how much I looked forward to the next twenty years.
And now…
Here we are.
Not where I thought we’d be.
