A letter I will never send, to someone I will never know.

Dear ***

You don’t know me. In fact, we have never met and, circumstances aside, I doubt neither coincidence nor brute force, strong will or begging will make such a meeting occur.

That said, I believe I know more about you than you would be comfortable with. I have shared your dreams, read your letters and held your hand through time travel. I have relived and revived and revisited all the places that still haunt you, even though you fear
admission of them, to anyone. Least of all, her.

You see, ***, all she ever wanted was to love you. I quote something I read once, which I know, resonated with her: “Asleep, you are curled like a question mark. I want to be the only answer you’ll ever need”.

And she did, she let you in, you let her love you, and through the inhalation and exhalation of life, you were where she began.

You see, ***, I don’t write this letter in anger towards you for spurning a memory again.

I thank you for this closure you have finally offered, but moreover, i want to thank you for letting her begin.

Were it not for you, ***, I do not know how the commonality that exists between myself and the person we hold common, would have blossomed so quickly and magnificently as it had. If she had been boxed in or labelled before she’d begun, I wonder if she would ever had begun at all.

I don’t doubt in any way that it was our destiny to have commonality but, maybe the texture of it would have been a little different. I thank you for the texture – the warm comfort of home that I feel with
her, and the spectacular ease with which I know we can and do resonate.

It was you who taught her to be brave. And ***, it was her who taught me to be brave, even when the world crashes into the sky and the moon collides with the sun. So, I thank you, a million times, for this.

I don’t write this to shout at you. I write this to thank you for all that you were and all that you were not. I thank you for the guidance you have shown to me, as I begin again in life. It is through our common person’s wisdom and courage, that I, have been able to begin again. To believe again. To unashamedly purge and rise again. And to not give up.

Dear ***, I thank you for your closure. I thank you for being brave enough, finally, not to shut out, as you have done to her for so many years, and so many years before that, when you and her were in much closer life proximity than you are today – geographical distance aside.

I have seen your face in turmoil. I have seen your face in joy – photographs are more telling than you think. I have watched as she cried to be let in, and revelled in running free of it all. I believe your closure is best, as hard and as stabbing as it is to her dreams.

You have reminded me and I believe, her, that the pursuit of happiness has nothing to do with how far you run, or how high you jump, but that the pursuit of happiness is all about coming home.

Goodbye, ***. I wish you all the joy and turmoil that makes you free. That makes you live.

And I thank you for letting the person we hold common, live.

With respect and my honour,
Cath