By Ramitha Ramesh
Picture Source: Pinterest
It’s April 2024. I woke up feeling heavy.
I rush to the bedside, grab a sheet of paper. And scribble down before the thought leaves me.
It was almost like I wanted to write down the letter before I lost the nerve to send it again.
“Hi love, it has been long. How are you doing? You must be surprised to find this letter from
me.
But today, I woke up and wondered if you were putting more sugar cubes in your tea now
than from when I knew you. Do you still cool down in the balcony after your workout?
That’s when we used to have our morning calls. How do you engage yourself now during
your cooldown? Do you still check yourself incessantly on video calls? Do you still wear that
red tee I like?
Will I ever know this new person you might have become now?
They say grief hits in waves. Sometimes, it’s the thought of the beautiful ways we were
together. Sometimes, it is thought of the person you were to me. Sometimes, it’s the future I
imagined for us. Sometimes, it’s the intimacy I miss.
I remember feeling like I lost so much in a single moment that day. The person I thought I
was, the person I thought you were, how my future would look, my self-trust, my belief in
my decision making, The idea of a future itself. Everything blurred out. I could no longer see
a tomorrow that isn’t filled with pain.
I lost the feeling of having known someone. It is interesting, how my worth was related to
knowing a person inside out. Every inch of you, how you thought, the meaning of every
breath you took and look you gave. I beamed at how I understood all of it. Have you changed
a lot now, my love?
Today, it’s the grief of unknowing someone. That I don’t know the person you are
today…That there will be a day when I know nothing about the person who meant everything
to me at one point in life. One day, I could see you and not understand a joke you cracked or
a look you gave or even why you ordered something in a hotel.
Is it weird that this thought hurts?
Those were difficult times. Deaths and sorrow all around. It felt silly almost…to feel grief over a
living person. I was expected to think bigger, to be grateful for our safety. For our health. For
our breath. But I knew even back then, I was grieving more than a relationship. I was
grieving the person I’d been for the past two years. The girl in love. The girl who looked out
for you more than she did for herself.
Did I push it all down hastily back then…did it find its way back up last night, when I found
our old letters?
Is it weird that I’m tearing up?
You’re right. There are no reasons sometimes. There are no answers sometimes. I guess the
whole act of letting go is also letting go of the need to understand, the need to comprehend,
the need to wrap our heads around every single minute detail of the situation. It’s about
making peace with what is. Making peace with the unknown.
I do try though. On some days, I am running away. Some, crawling. On some days, I can
barely breathe.
But today? Today, I’m just standing still. Sitting down for a moment of respite.
Lost on the path forward. Weighed down by everything that has ever gone wrong. I have run
back before, even before I reached the door. I wonder if it is growth or healing… or just
mere common sense this time around. That this time… I don’t want to give up. I want to
grieve. To feel grief.
I just need a minute of rest right now before I push forward, even if it means the path ahead
would break me down further. I’m pulled back to everything familiar… everything
comforting. Everything I loved.
But today, I just want a minute. A minute of calm. I’m letting everything that hurts wash me
over. But staying still… carefully still, afraid that the slightest glitch will have me
disintegrating. I’m holding onto every memory and hope with all I’ve got.
Because it’s time I showed myself I have it in me to walk away when it’s time.
I wish I could send you this letter. But I just realized I don’t know where you live
anymore… and that is okay. Right?
It’s been 3 years since we spoke. Is it weird that I still carry all this with me?
With love,
…
For more such letters and pieces, click on The Word.