Day 35: A Letter to an Ex

Dear Tom:
I still remember the first time I saw you. You were hard to miss, with your imposing figure crammed into a chair designed for a high school student. We were in class together all summer, institute once a week, and I learned a little about you. Your head was shaved and had a huge scar. My mom informed me that was from the tumor you'd had removed. Everything looked good now; you were on the mend. You lived at your parents' house while recovering from the cancer. But you had a real job, something with computers I think. You were divorced, one very cute son and an ex-wife who sort of went off the deep end. No matter. And I learned that, despite your intimidating physique, you were absolutely kind and sweet and just a very gentle soul.

You must have liked me then, though I didn't notice. I was so caught up in so many things. Sorry I flirted with someone else on that long drive to the ward camp out. Really, I didn't know until the drive was almost over. Then the pieces came together and I could tell. You were interested and I wasn't. Sad, but very true.

Fall came and I moved off to school, returning frequently, but also growing increasingly entangled with someone else altogether. He could hardly have been more different from you. He was loud and confident, exciting, cosmopolitan, in absolute possession of my affections and not all that interested in having them. It wasn't that I didn't like you, just that I couldn't see past him. How hard it must have been for you to see me run after someone who cared so little! I suppose that, though I was destroyed by it, you rejoiced when he summarily ended our tumultuous relationship. It took you just a few days to ask me out. And so, because I wanted to go to the concert and I think everyone deserves a chance, I said yes.

You brought me a rose. That's never happened before. You took me for a walk after the concert. I love walks. And soon thereafter, you took me for another long walk, followed by dinner. You wanted to go out again; I wanted more time. My heart was still broken and I just wasn't ready to try again. I needed more space. You took me to a play; I wore a scarf that was my Christmas present from my ex. I wasn't ready to move on yet. After another really nice date, we talked. I explained that I couldn't be close to anyone at that point. You thought it was you. How it broke my heart trying to explain that I thought you were wonderful (if not quite my ideal) and the problem truly was ALL me. No matter, you said, take your time. "I would wait forever just to hold your hand." No pressure.

Valentine's Day was that week. Poor timing, I guess. You left a card at my door, reminding me that you would wait as long as it took. I was certain it would take forever, perhaps longer.

Another month passed and you called again. This time the proposed date was to my favorite musical. Why do guys I'm not interested in always plan the best dates? I had to say no. I could not bring myself to take advantage of your affection. And I couldn't lie to you. I was still too sad to love anyone. And I wasn't ready to believe that the things you saw to love in me were true. I was so certain that if you really knew me you would only be disappointed. So you see, I did care. I cared too much to crush your illusion and let you see that you were after a rather flawed dating reject. Of course you didn't see any of that, but I just couldn't believe you. And I couldn't take the risk that I was right, and once disillusioned you would leave me alone again.

We talked often and you tried to talk me out of going to law school. More importantly, you tried to talk me out of going away to law school. There was always a chance I would stay, but it never was a very good one.

Easter came, and you called me again. This time you just wanted to talk. So we went for another walk and I listened. The tumor was back and it didn't look good. I don't remember what I said or how we parted. It seemed so surreal.

Even as you were sick and perhaps never to recover, I couldn't give you what you wanted. I wanted you to keep the dream girl you had imagined rather than getting the imperfect girl you thought was her. What's more, as much as I enjoyed your friendship, I was not interested in anything more. I tried to feel something more, I truly did. I felt you deserved it. But, some things just aren't meant to be. After that, our interactions were limited. We were certainly friends, but you never asked for anything more again.

I remember the summer day when someone came for me at church and told me you were very sick. You'd asked to see me. So I went to your house and sat by your bed. I watched the leaves in the trees outside your window and we talked about death. You were so at peace. It's hard to know what to say at such a time. I wanted to give you comfort, so I held your hand and did my best. You got better for a while, but we all knew the end was coming. Part of me wished then that I'd played the part of devoted girlfriend for a few months. But I'm not a good liar, and you deserved the truth. You deserve someone who loves you the way you loved me. That person just wasn't me.

As the summer wore on I prepared for law school and you prepared for other things. My life was just beginning and yours was at its end. I understand that so much more now than I did then. I visited you several times, including the day I moved away. You couldn't talk anymore, but I sat by your bed and held your hand. After my plane landed in Virginia, I learned that you had died. We both started our new lives the same day.

I'm so sorry I couldn't love you, at least not in the way you wanted. But I am grateful for your affection. As I met and fell in love with my husband, I often thought of you. He reminded me of you in several very good ways. Because of knowing you, I was better able to love him. And, in part because of you, I even managed to believe it when he said he was in love with me.

Tom, I never have anything but warm thoughts of you. I sometimes wish we could talk, so I could tell you how grateful I am for having known you. I hope you're happy, wherever you are. I know you must miss your son. And I hope you don't miss me. You've already had your fair share of sadness.

With warmest regard,
Melanie