I'm trying to make sense of what I cannot make sense of. My wife and I had an incredible relationship up until the point in Fall of 2008 where we lost our first child - our daughter - at birth.
We're still living together - papers have been filed - but I'm not certain either one of us truly knows what we want.
Anyway, I wrote the following for her - what do you think?
"I feel like the sun was shining on us when we met and those perfect, sunny days carried us forward, but when we lost her we became lost in the fog and at first we clung to one another tightly because the world was suddenly so dark and scary but as life became "normal" again – we loosened our grip and we allowed ourselves to "drift" a little. We could still see one another and we still moved forward through the fog together. I feel like we lost sight of one another at one point – maybe I allowed myself to wander away – I heard you call out for me – but I couldn't get back to you. I kind of feel like I left you alone in the fog and it was never because I didn't want to find you – I just couldn't figure out how to do it. It was like my feet were paralyzed – I was afraid of the darkness – and even though I wanted to find you I couldn't make myself do it. You tried to call me back – you shouted my name into the fog but eventually you lost hope and you became weary of the search. Maybe you assumed I was lost forever – maybe because I wanted to be lost – but you came to the point where you realized you had to venture off on your own and you did and it was maybe okay. I was finally able to break free when I realized you had stopped calling my name. I put aside my fear and apprehension and went looking for you – but you were gone and I was scared and upset because I felt like you had abandoned me to an uncertain fate. I just stood there – peering through the dim haze – cursing you for leaving me – but then I remembered that you had been calling me and calling me and I hadn't come. I realized you had been looking for me and it was my own fears that had kept me from answering your call and I was filled with an incredible urge to find you so I set off into the fog myself – but you were gone and you didn't want to be found. You had found that the mystery around the next corner was both frightening and exciting. You found power in being able to explore on your own – but also sadness and fear knowing that your new path was uncertain. I kept looking – and sometimes I thought I felt your presence – like you were looking right at me through the fog but when I turned in your direction you were gone or sometimes I felt your breath touch my cheek as you slipped silently past. I feel like I'm still in the fog – knowing I need to find my own path out of the darkness but being unable to let go of the search. It's hard because I remember what it was like when we moved forward together and it's hard because I know I heard you calling for me and I didn't come back. I'm sad because I don't know where you've gone – part of me hopes you've found your way out of the fog and you're happy – part of me hopes you're still out there and that maybe I'll find you again."
We're still living together - papers have been filed - but I'm not certain either one of us truly knows what we want.
Anyway, I wrote the following for her - what do you think?
"I feel like the sun was shining on us when we met and those perfect, sunny days carried us forward, but when we lost her we became lost in the fog and at first we clung to one another tightly because the world was suddenly so dark and scary but as life became "normal" again – we loosened our grip and we allowed ourselves to "drift" a little. We could still see one another and we still moved forward through the fog together. I feel like we lost sight of one another at one point – maybe I allowed myself to wander away – I heard you call out for me – but I couldn't get back to you. I kind of feel like I left you alone in the fog and it was never because I didn't want to find you – I just couldn't figure out how to do it. It was like my feet were paralyzed – I was afraid of the darkness – and even though I wanted to find you I couldn't make myself do it. You tried to call me back – you shouted my name into the fog but eventually you lost hope and you became weary of the search. Maybe you assumed I was lost forever – maybe because I wanted to be lost – but you came to the point where you realized you had to venture off on your own and you did and it was maybe okay. I was finally able to break free when I realized you had stopped calling my name. I put aside my fear and apprehension and went looking for you – but you were gone and I was scared and upset because I felt like you had abandoned me to an uncertain fate. I just stood there – peering through the dim haze – cursing you for leaving me – but then I remembered that you had been calling me and calling me and I hadn't come. I realized you had been looking for me and it was my own fears that had kept me from answering your call and I was filled with an incredible urge to find you so I set off into the fog myself – but you were gone and you didn't want to be found. You had found that the mystery around the next corner was both frightening and exciting. You found power in being able to explore on your own – but also sadness and fear knowing that your new path was uncertain. I kept looking – and sometimes I thought I felt your presence – like you were looking right at me through the fog but when I turned in your direction you were gone or sometimes I felt your breath touch my cheek as you slipped silently past. I feel like I'm still in the fog – knowing I need to find my own path out of the darkness but being unable to let go of the search. It's hard because I remember what it was like when we moved forward together and it's hard because I know I heard you calling for me and I didn't come back. I'm sad because I don't know where you've gone – part of me hopes you've found your way out of the fog and you're happy – part of me hopes you're still out there and that maybe I'll find you again."
Put the internet to work for you.
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