I remember frantically cleaning cleaning as I had never done before. Everything had to be perfect. I remember awakening the next morning much, much earlier than I needed to. I just couldn't wait.… like a child on Christmas Eve.
I remember all of the things my dear, dear friend said to me during many nights (and many late hours) previous. I listened, took mental notes and made sure that the advice was fresh in my mind.
In the end, nothing she nor anyone could have said would have stopped it. The collision was inevitable.
6 October, 2003: 'Taboo'
And indeed it was. Something about best-laid plans…
I remember jumping into the car and getting to the airport in what I can only imagine would be record-time. Standing at the baggage claim, my stomach was in knots and in that state it remained for several days following.
Seven days was all it took.
Seven days where time stood still, where we could forget everything around us, where the only people we needed to heal were each other.
Seven days where nothing else mattered and she was mine.
And then, just as quickly as it had started.… it was over. And there I was again alone.
I remember everything as if it had just happened, as if I were floating in a dream. I remember the smell of her hair, the texture of her lips, the warmth of her body next to mine, the sound of her voice as she rallied the courage to whisper, "I love you."
I remember kissing her softly, feeling more alive than I could ever remember being. I remember hearing those words and knowing that she truly meant them. I remember her asking me to make love to her, and that for the first time in quite a long time, doing so because I was in love with someone who actually loved me back.
And I remember watching everything crumble before my eyes as I drove to the airport just as I had seven days prior the difference this time being that I drove as slowly as possible to give her one last chance to change her mind.
Less than twenty-four hours removed from the ordeal, I simply said the three words to her that she had been courageous enough to utter just a few nights previous. The response this time, however, was very different.
"You know we can't say that anymore. But you know how I feel."
And then I remember running away, because it was all I knew to do.
That was nineteen months ago.
This is here so that you don't forget. I still hurt, and for whatever reason, the pain in my heart is stronger than the remainder of any love that I ever held for you. On this, your anniversary, remember, always remember, that you took the heart and soul of a person you claimed to love and crushed it, for only the reason that you were too much of a coward to do what you wanted to do in the first place.
Never, ever forget that.
Heather, 29 October, 2003