Until We Meet Again

September

Dear Sarah,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for everything I've done that upset you. I'm sorry for walking out on you that rainy Sunday morning four years ago. I'm sorry for screaming at you whenever I was too stressed out at work. I'm sorry for all the times I'm not there for you when you needed me.

I'm sorry I can't move on.

I'm sorry, Sarah.

But these words will mean nothing now to you, will they?

It's too late. It's too late to make amends. It's too late to say goodbye. But I don't want to say goodbye. You see? That's the problem here. I don't want to admit that you're gone. I want you to be here.

I don't want this to be real.

Ironically, in this time of grief. the memory of us is what keeps me going. I know you wouldn't want me to take my own life, even if it were to end my misery. I know what you'd say to me.

"It'll get better, Blake. Just hang in there."

I can even hear your voice in those words.

It's been nine months and I'm still stuck in this rut. Please, Sarah, tell me what I'm doing wrong. Why can't I let go? I know I should. I know there's nothing else I can do. But I can't let go of us. I can't let you go.

I'm sorry, Sarah.

I just don'e know what to do.

Love,

Blake