Letters to Wyatt✔️

3

November 13, 2015.

Dear Wyatt,

I ran into your mom today at the grocery store. It was awkward to say the least. She tried to be polite, but despite you always assuring me otherwise, I had never felt like your mom thought I was good enough for you when we were dating.

It feels so weird to write 'when we were dating'. Even though we were young, I had always thought our love would be the kind of thing that lasted for forever. I wanted to marry you and have babies with you, ones with my olive skin and your curly hair. I wanted to wake up next to you and your crazy bed head hair every day for the rest of my days.

When I thought about you dying, I pictured you as a frail old man with sagging cheeks and a cane. I had imagined myself being there with you as we grew old together, your health deteriorating so gradually that I was prepared for the day you died in your sleep or had a massive stroke. I hadn't planned on you being here one minute and gone the next, so sudden that I had a hard time attaching what had happened to the reality that I was living.

Sometimes I feel like this is all a dream, that you'll show up on my doorstep any minute with roses and kiss me until I can't even think straight. I keep waiting for you to text me good morning before you leave for your early morning classes and at times I catch myself wondering if the mailmen have gone on strike because of the absence of your regular love letters.

It's overwhelming, really. To think that you're gone, and that some day I'm going to have to realize that this is it; you're not coming back. Not now, not ever.

But I'm worried that the day I do accept you being gone is the day I'll lose that bit left of you I still have in my heart. And that terrifies me.

Savannah

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