Dear Love {I'm Still Grieving}

The title says it all. Sorta. Well, not really. Ya know why not? Because my heart is still so full. There are so many words just aching to be spilled in ink—the result of a bleeding and broken heart.

Oh yes, my heart is bursting full.

Full of pain.

Full of memories.

Full of emotions.

Full of hope—that will likely be crushed.

Full of LOVE for you.

Hopelessly romantic as that sounds, it sure ain't a pretty feeling.

It's physically stinging. Like a raw wound. I suppose that's because it is a raw wound.

It stings every time I see you, hear your laugh or see you share your time with other people.

That used to be me sitting right beside you, laughing with you or causing you to laugh. That used to be me sharing my time with you.

I find it so difficult to adjust to being just another friend or acquaintance of yours.

You are the guy with whom I shared so much of myself. None other. None before you and none since.

Your hand was the only hand I'd held. I held your heart too, or so I thought. Maybe I should've held tighter.

You may not realize it, but you still very much have my heart tightly in your grip.

In your grip—not in some controlling or manipulative way. But just by being you. Wonderful you.

Oh how I miss you. Just knowing that at any time I could talk to you. About random stuff. About hopes and dreams. And know you'd be up to sharing your thoughts and feelings too.

That's gone and it feels so wrong. You have no idea how many times I've been so close to sending you a message or calling you up or talking to you when I see you.

Just messages and calls about everyday life. Boring stuff, right? But it wasn't boring with you. You put excitement and adventure into my life. I literally could have talked with you all day and not been bored. And still have such an unquenchable thirst for learning more about you. Spending more time with you.

I just simply couldn't get enough of you. Yes, even the little pesky things you did and said. Even those were strangely endearing. I'd take them any day over this silence and distance we have to suffer through now.

We used to share our hearts so freely, and now we hold on fiercely to just a "hello"...

Not only have I lost my man—the one I might have married, with whom I might have built a family—I have lost my best friend.

I keep dreaming about you. Literally and figuratively. I shouldn't, but it is hard not to when my heart is still very much yours.

It's yours, and you don't even know it. That's the hard part.

(Ha, the hard part—as if that's the only hard part of this. All of it is hard. Hard as Stone Henge.)

I didn't even know I loved you until it was too late. Too late in more ways than one.

I'd already fallen for you. There was no turning back—no stopping it.

You were already gone.

Losing you didn't invoke hatred, anger or resentment in me like it so easily could have. Instead, it merely awakened me to the intense love I have for you.

I'd been blind to it before. Or was in denial.

Denial is more likely. I tend to give my heart away so wholly to those who seem worthy. And with you, I was attempting to be more cautious.

But in vain. Your kind heart and gentle ways and magnetic attraction won me over finally.

I say finally, but honestly, I think it was that way from the very beginning. I just didn't recognize it then—or chose not to, at least.

But now I see clearly. I don't just care about you. I care about lots of people. I'm a caring person in general. No, my dear:

I love you.

And love never fails. That's why it's so hard to give you away. It feels like failing.

So I haven't given you up.

Not yet.

Sincerely,

Me 🖤