(found by the lump in the throat, the tears in the eyes, the ringing in the ears that all occur when a moment so fraught with tension comes into existence that its existence can hardly be believed)
I’m so sorry, Henry.
Because it should have been forever. Unfortunately, though – and I know all of your arguments for and against this fact – it just could not. It just could not, and that’s all there is.
Sometimes life is about the simple facts, the irreversible, unignorable facts, the hard pills to swallow, the bite of the cold breeze on the exposed torso, the lash of the whip and all of that horrific terribleness.
I understand that it should have been forever.
Henry, it’s all just a mess. It’s a mess in my mind. It’s a mess right here, standing on this beach, and it’s all just a mess. Sometimes you look out over the ocean and you see the waves and the tides that go in and go out, and sometimes you see the pattern of it all, and you hear the calming tones of splashing water on a sandy shore, and you can just relax. Well, Henry, sometimes you look out, and you just see a mess.
I don’t blame you, but, then, I don’t blame myself either. We are the ones who die when we get old, and – so – to a certain point, when you are young and when the world is overwrought with the chance to experience, you must live for yourself. You must make decisions for yourself in the hopes of finding brighter dreams and better futures.
It is painful because it should have been forever and because it should have been easy and because – if nothing else – it should have ended without so many tears.
But, whether they be of pain or guilt, joy or otherwise, Henry, these are our actions and decisions. These are our memories, and we must live with them. The world demands of us to bear the burden of our own honesty.
Take care of yourself,