It has been 7 months, more or less, since my last message to you. Where it has been I have no clue. As I reflect upon my first message, I realize that it is full of frustration, even some anger I suppose, but the truth nonetheless.
I promised to let you go, and I have tried time and again. Everyday, I get up and force myself to move on with my life. There are even days when I don’t have to think about getting up and moving on with my life. I can even admit that at times, I go two or three days without a thought of you. The fact is I don’t really want to let you go. I have to fight off the urge to send you email, just to say hello, how are you doing. I do not have your email address or telephone number, but I know that it would take me about five minutes of research to get them. One time I gave you my email address and phone number (I’m sure you immediately trashed them) in case you ever just wanted to talk or needed something. Everyday I look for an email or wait for that call that I know in my heart is never coming, but everyday I look with anticipation anyway. The invitation remains open nonetheless.
I ask myself each day, why I write these notes (the readers do as well I’m sure). I talk to you in this fashion because it is my only means to reach you. I know you don’t want hear any of this, but if I can’t talk about it, if it is not worth talking about, then our love was meaningless; some trivial or random event, some youthful folly that in the grand scheme of things was so inconsequential that we could have never found one another and it would not have mattered. Perhaps that is all it was for you, but I don’t believe that and I know you don’t either. Sometimes it’s not so much what you say, but what you don’t say that matters.
It seems our lives have diverged irreparably since that summer of ’68. I was working and living at Scott’s Oquaga Lake Resort, and then I moved to Florida. I thought that time and distance would be the catharsis. When someone dies or a relationship ends the old adage always applied, “Move on, it will fade, you will get over it”. So I expected our love to fade, I waited for that moment when I was over it, but the fact is, you have never faded, I have never really gotten over it. It is supposed to fade. I demand that it fade. Why won’t it fade? Our separate paths have widened over the years, we have lived our lives pretty much the way we were raised to, the way Society and other forces expected of us, demanded of us. But, don’t you ever get the inkling that something is amiss? You can’t quite articulate what it is, but it is there. We have ignored it, dismissed it, and missed it for so long that we don’t even know what we are missing. Suddenly we look around; we are firmly implanted in our day-to-day lives, doing the right thing, so we are told. We are more or less happy. Not giddy, not ecstatic, but happy. This is our destiny. It is the brave person that is willing to grab destiny by the throat………..I know your still in there Amy………………..
When you add it all up, it meant that we were supposed to be together forever. Circumstances keep us apart, but in my heart and in my memories we are as close as any two people can possibly be. If that is all that remains, then so be it, but I will never give up the dream. I will never surrender the dream. That is not my nature. So I remain out here, where I have always been, yours. This is my only means to reach out to you, but ohhhhhhhhh, what I would give to just hear your voice or read your words, even in the most trivial of conversation.
So once again…………..I’ve corked the bottle, and tossed it into that vast sea of the Internet for any and all to read and ponder and do with as they see fit.
8 – 3 – 1
Always and forever