There was a time when you made me smile.
There was a time when I think I was able to make you smile.
18 months is not a long time. But it felt like a life time.
It started with the innocent conversations with him.
Then he introduced us. It was instant. I felt we had a connection.
You came to us when you were having a bad day.
We came to you when things were good and when things were not so good.
We brought you in our life. In our home. In our family.
We took you and your little one in happily and openly.
Our kids were good with your little guy.
They treated him like a little brother.
They treated you like a second mom.
We had grand ideas on how this may work.
We could share the work. Share the love. Share our life.
There were things not shared.
Things not communicated.
It ultimately led to the demise of Us.
Here we are after all the hurt. All the mean things said. All the lies you told.
And all I can think is is wish it had worked.
He asked me the other day why I still talk to you.
I could not answer him.
There is some small part of me that wishes after all this time that you would care for me as much as I care for you.
You left us.
You took what could have been away from us.
You pushed us away in hopes we would push back and we did.
I hate that I was not strong enough to stand against the pushing.
I have all of these what if’s in my head.
I want to believe that we could have made this work.
I want to believe that this could have been amazing.
Here we are four or so years away from when you came.
It took two years to get over the hurt. To get over the mental torment that came from the end.
I hate this.
I know you can live without another thought of us. Of me. Of what could have been.
I know it meant more to me than it did to you.
I wish I knew how you felt.
I wish I could just let it be.
Hopefully time will make it easier.