a letter from the past

This may not be the feelgood letter you’re hoping for, but that’s not what it needs to be.

I intended this to be short and to the point, but I realized it may be the last deep thing I ever write to you. I thought I owed you more than that. There’s a lot I want to say, and I don’t know how much of it will make it here. I know that as soon as I hit the send key I’ll regret some of what I wrote, and some of what I didn’t.

Such is life.

When I said yesterday that you ending it like you did wasn’t unexpected, I meant that since you’ve told me your thinking changes when you see me, I had always felt it would happen quickly when we’re apart, as it did. As you might think I have written extensively about “the end”. It was only a matter of time, and who made the decision. I never questioned any other part of it.

A couple corrections from the journal entry you sent-you referred to me writing “please don’t leave me Jennifer”. The actual quote was more like “please don’t make me leave you, Jennifer, please baby, don’t do that.” Thank you for not making me do that. You doubted your strength and told me I was the stronger one when it comes to me, now you know differently. Good for you, I’m proud of you for doing it.

The other correction from that entry-you said you want to be my best friend, just like I am to you. Maybe you don’t remember telling me at OG last week that Bill is your best friend, and it’s not the first time you’ve said it. It was all I could do to not react to that. I felt like you’d punched me in the stomach. Or maybe slapped in the face is the more accurate phrase. I thought “what has she shared with Bill that makes him her best friend?”. I guess I can’t be that person to you, because I haven’t been around like he has. I still don’t know how to take it, but it doesn’t matter now.

But since I’m being totally forthcoming here, I’ll say that if I were married or otherwise seriously involved, I’d assume my partner to be my best friend. I’d want that. That’s just me.

I really don’t believe that you understand what’s happened. I never thought you really knew how all this ties together for me. It’s not just that I can’t kiss or stroke you now. You killed a part of me yesterday. Do you get that? You closed a door, smothered an outlet, you changed everything. I don’t know if I can just be your friend. I can’t go back from where we just were to something lesser. The physical part of our relationship was only an expression of what I feel. I’m not allowed to feel that way anymore. If anything we’ll be different from what we ever were, and I don’t know what that is. I can’t not feel and express myself for you, Jennifer, and that affects everything between us. Unfortunately I’ve never been able to express this so you’ll get it, I’m sorry.

I will never pretend that we didn’t have what we just lost.




There is one thing I wanted to share with you the next time we were at my place, but won’t get the chance to now. When we were in my bed a couple weeks ago, I was kissing your stomach like we both enjoyed. I stopped for a minute when a thought hit me. It was so beautiful, but crushingly painful at the same time, and brings me to tears every time I think of it now. Never in my life had I felt anything like that, before that night. It’s what took me to the different place I’ve spoke of since. I see now that it was the all-encompassing statement of what I feel for you, of regret, of hope, of love and loss, of what I’ve missed, of what could have been, of a life and potential at least partially wasted. My life.

I thought “this is where our child would have been”.

If you’re not in tears right now, just don’t ever speak to me again.



I don’t blame you for anything, Jennifer, I’ve known the rules from the beginning. None of what I’ve written here is me lashing out at you for hurting me.

I have to point out the irony that you’ve now left me twice for the same guy. 20+ years apart, and he wins again. I give up. There won’t be a third try, I promise. Deep down I knew there was no opportunity for me here but I had to have hope. Don’t bother telling me it’s not a competition; he’s won your heart from me forever.

I’ll be OK with that if it makes you happy.


I had written earlier that the worst part of this breakup is that we can’t be there for each other. It’s killing me to not respond to your calls and texts, but I have to push you completely away. For the record my chest hurts, I cried myself asleep last night, I’m sick to my stomach, and I can barely talk to anyone today. I’ve cried so many times I’m out of tears. And I think I’m handling it better than expected.


Eventually I’ll stop seeing reminders of you everywhere I look. I’ll do something with
the oil and candle I bought for the beach trip; I can’t use it with anyone else. I’ll wash your shirt, put away the blue fleece, and stash the CD with our song on it. Sometime I’ll be able to eat Chinese food at my coffee table, and light a candle. I need to cancel the weekly emails from the place we stayed at the beach anyway. I’ll give the Diet Coke in my fridge away, and maybe I’ll drink that last bottle of Riesling I bought for us one night while I cry for you, one final time.






And I’ll stop thinking of how it feels to pull you to me, my mouth coming to yours, an involuntary gasp coming from me, in that gentle but intense way that only works with you. I could not better express the raw emotion I felt for you than that, Jennifer, I hope you appreciated that.





For now I can’t be anything to you, Jennifer, because you need to move on. You finally made the right decision, and I will do my part to help you stick to it. Go back to Tony, your two beautiful daughters, your horses, your underpaid and overworked job, your friends, your ambitions, and everything else that filled your life before I sent that email three months ago. Back to a life I can’t provide, with people I can’t be, doing things I can’t do, living like I’m unable. It’s where you need to be, not with me.

One piece of advice-stop looking for what’s missing in your life. It’s probably been in front of you all along.



I’m gonna miss my cupcake.