all the things i couldn't say
dear m.e.w.,
i will never forget that time i called you, a little less than four weeks before our wedding, to say that i couldn’t marry you.
“i’m coming down this weekend. i need to talk to you about something,” i said.
“just tell me now,” you replied, “i don’t want to wait for the weekend.”
“it’s not something i want to talk about over the phone,” i said.
you persisted, “tell me now. i can tell it’s something important and i want to know. i deserve to know.”
“okay,” i began, “i’m having second thoughts about our wedding. actually, what i think is that we shouldn’t get married at all.”
silence.
then you began to speak, “well, if that’s how you really feel, i need to go. i have some phone calls to make.”
and just like that, you hung up the phone and all our plans for a life together were gone.
at the time, i couldn’t believe that you could let me go so easily. i wanted you to fight for me, for us, but you didn’t. you needed things i couldn’t give, and i needed someone you would never be. the years that separated us in age also separated us in ways far beyond my understanding. it’s taken nearly ten years for me to finally understand, and for me to finally say that i’m sorry.
i am.
m.e.w., i didn’t get any of it, until now. i was too young. i was too absorbed in learning about the world and developing my own identity that i couldn’t see all of the things that you were trying so hard to show me. i only knew love as a dependency, not as a freedom, as a mirror, not as a window.
i just want you to know that it all makes sense now, beautiful sense. true, you will never be my husband, but you have been my teacher. and for that i am thankful.
h.d.b.
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