An attempt at reconciliation. I send a message.
“…I suppose it is all water under the bridge. And sometimes there is so much water the bridge actually washes away. But the fact is the bridge was there once, connecting two people, and something of it necessarily abides, as all things that have existed must do. Maybe there are even foundations that survive, worn down and out of sight, but a testament to what came before, just the same. Ruins to most people, but really ruins are just evidence, aren’t they? That something was once built, a long time ago, carefully or carelessly, no matter, because nothing in life is really either-or, good or bad, love or hate … it is all the same really, all of the multitudes that keep us busy forgetting what we remember (or remembering what we forget)…”
We are three months out, after four years in. It hasn’t gotten easier, not for a minute, and you respond immediately. Something clumsy and sweet and I am both triumphant and well aware of what I am losing, because had you not responded, this would have made for such a lovely ending.