It’s fall again, the comfort of the season all around me like thoughts of you.
I write letters to you in my head, mostly in the middle of the night when my brain refuses to give in to the pressures of sleep, because that hasn’t changed. I think of all the things unsaid, left hanging in the air like dim stars that will never burn in the way they may have been intended. Or perhaps you knew; you seemed to always know. In the deepest stillness, I can hear your laughter and feel the touch of your gentle hands. I see your smile everyday. Missing. Just . . . missing.
Wherever you’ve gone and wherever you are, I believe you can hear me. I sometimes feel you in that serendipitous way where thoughts of you creep catlike through my mind, and if I stop for a moment, we are there together, however fleetingly. It’s what sustains me on my darkest days, and what adds to my happiness on the brightest.
I would give anything to have one more night in your living room, cozy on the couch with a roaring fire, so I could tell you all the things that have happened since we last spoke. I would tell you all about him, the places in the world I’ve been, the things I’ve seen, and how I’ve loved and grieved and felt so lost and at the same time completely found. Because I know you would understand me in a way that only a soulmate can.
As my beloved October arrives, I feel the warmth and the chill of all of it all at once. I watch the leaves fall and am again reminded that to everything there is a season. It’s all so bittersweet, this life. You arrive, you love, you laugh, you cry, you make beautiful messes, you depart. I will never be more grateful than for every autumn we shared.
For everything we ever were and everything that remains, you’re with me still.