I got lost in the sounds I hear in my mind

It's been almost a year since you and him broke up. Since the last straw, the final end. You made that end decision quickly, at least that's what it seemed like. You came home that day, walked in and sat on the couch, with tears coming down your face. You didn't need to say the words, I just knew. You told me that you couldn't do it anymore. You were crying, and I put my arms around you, and you put your head on my shoulder. I didn't know what to say. I knew, with my whole heart that you had made the right decision, but I could see the pain that you felt. I could feel it on you, on me while I held you. I just wanted to take all of that pain away, make it be all over. I couldn't do it.

You tried to smile and said that you thought you had made the right decision. You talked about how hard it was, to tell him that it was over. You had been through so much in just these past several months. You said it felt like a lifetime.

A few months later, you would tell me how you still thought of him. How it was the hardest decision you ever had to make, to leave him. That you left him, still in love. You would tell me how you still thought of him, all of the time. Still felt him there with you in the middle of the night. Craved his touch, his smell. How things didn't seem to be getting any better. Not at all. You asked me if I thought you would ever be able to fully get over him. I told you that it would take some time, that I was always there for you. You apologized for feeling like a downer. For still talking about him, over beers and soft lighting, months later. You said you were embarrassed because you should be over him by now. But that you didn't know how to do it.

I remember that afternoon, in Barnes and Noble, when you told me you thought the guy drinking his coffee in the corner was attractive. And I felt so happy for you. You said it was the first time you felt something, for someone else. You actually got excited about this guy. When he asked for your number, you looked so pretty, graciously giving it to him, sweeping your long hair behind you ear.

At times like these, it began to seem like you were doing better. I told you this, how much happier you seemed now. After several martinis one night, we were in the kitchen, making scrambled eggs. Your eyes filled up. You confessed that you were trying with all of your heart to put up the strength that we all saw. You said how much you still missed him, how hard it still continued to be. You said your heart still ached.

I wanted so badly to make everything all better for you. I could feel your pain again, that night, and I remember how frustrated I was with myself because I didn't know how to make it all better for you. You hurting, it was so awful for me to see you go through. You didn't deserve it.

And here we are; it's been several months since the eggs and tears. It's been almost a year since the end and the couch that afternoon you came home and told me. You haven't dated much since then. You seem happier now. I check in now and then with you, to see how you're doing, about him. You say you don't think of him much anymore. But that you are getting nervous for the upcoming holiday, and the one after that. Most of us hope that part of your life is way in the past by now, that it doesn't cross your mind anymore. Because you seem interested in other people, other things. You don't mention anymore how that song reminds you of him, how your bed seems so big, how you miss his presence, and his hands. You always told me how you missed his hands.

What you went through was really shitty. But you have grown so much. You are a stronger person from what you went through. I know that you don't always see it. You brush it off. It's what you do. But I know you. And I know how much he meant to you. And it's okay to still think about him. It's okay to dream about him, and wonder. It's normal, and it's okay. He was your first true love.

It doesn't go away that easily.

6 in 1 day.... fish, the trilogy.

Dear B,
I'm so sorry. I was doing all the right things. Cleaning it when I should, feeding them the right amount, not leaving the light on all day (I learned that the hard way), changing the filter regularly. They were doing so good! All swimming around, playing with the little shot glass I put in there for a cute effect... they seemed happy in their new home. All was good in their new spot.

Unit it wasn't.

Until yesterday. And I swear, if I hadn't missed your call this weekend when you called me, from France (idiot, how could I miss the call?!, I miss YOU), then I would have assured you all was well, given you the update on your favorite fish, Blacky, telling you how they were thriving in their aquatic playground.

And they so were! Until yesterday. That's when it all started I guess. One died. Shit, and you know how I hate the actual scoop out and flush bit. So it was okay, I was okay... one out of the whole crew, and it had been sooo long since any prior casualities! But then today. Oh my God, today. I wake up, and one more is dead! NO! I tell T, and she goes to get it out, and there is ANOTHER dead. That's two so far. I get home from work tonight, go to check on the little guys... two more, gone! Are you freaking kidding me? I change the filter. I feed them, have a little talk with them. They seem okay? I come to do some work on the computer for a couple hours... turn around, and no freaking way, are you serious? Two more.... dead!

B, that's 7, in less than 24 hours! What the hell is going on? We're doing all the right things; what is wrong with them? With my caregiving?! They've been doing so well... and now this?!

I am so sorry.

And I'm sorry I missed your call. I missed your call, and I miss you. How is France? We haven't gotten one of your group email updates in a while. I miss our talks. I miss your singing, our singing, to Oasis or Simon and Garfunkel in your Buick. I miss our lunches and your stories. The smile you always bring to my face. I miss your smile. And as you once said, "I miss the bull shitting"... the sitting on your couch, literally, bull shitting about our days, our qualms, what the hell she's wearing on tv, what to text him back, where to go out for drinks.

I hope you're doing well. I'm sorry about your fishies. Blacky is still okay though, I swear.

Talk to you soon,
M

A Note From:

Those that know me well know that I am a card person. I love sending them, for any, and all occasions. For no occasions. Just because. I could spend hours in the card aisles at CVS. Oh, and put me in the Paper Store? In heaven. Cardsmart, where all cards are 50% off? Can't get enough of it. Picking out cards for a certain event, and stocking up on cards to have on hand. It's totally my thing.

There's something about a handwritten note, something delivered via snail mail, to someone's door, that they physically have to open with their own two hands. Something tangible. That you can save in a special place for as long as they want (and if you're me, I have cards saved from years ago... I have trouble letting that stuff go). It's different than an email, a phone call, a voicemail, or text. It's random and it's unexpected. And yet, it's so very simple.

Two of my best friends, who happen to be siblings, have two of the sweetest, most adorable, precious grandparents I've known. I'm close with them, and have come to know them well over the years. Their grandmother has been dealing with some health issues lately, so since then, I have been sending her notes more regularly. Just checking in, thinking of you type of notes and cards. We talk on the phone now and then, and she is always so appreciative of the cards I send, saying how thankful she is. This totally gets me. Gets me in the way that I feel totally full with love for this precious couple.

But what really got me... what I actually carry around in my purse now, is a note I got from their grandfather recently:

Dear Meg:
Thank you for your card.
You will never know how much she appreciates it.
Thank you.

Totally got me. I know, it's so short and simple.... but it says so much. It's so meaningful. I get so much pleasure out of sending these cards, but to hear and see how much it means to someone else like that, it just really made me smile.

And that feels good.