The dead don't return. That's the first lesson you learn. But sometimes they do and it upends everything you know and believe...and you're happy because you no longer grieve, but scared because it's real.
I know you think I'm being absurd and maybe I do too, but damn it, Mel, I'm talking to you now the way I pray to God.
You finally did it. You tried so long to get me to make a commitment and when you left, I finally wanted it too. Was it your absence, or the vast distance, or maybe I just needed time, a month or two?
The earth needs to lie fallow and sometimes people need to rest too. That's my apology for not following and the regret will follow me forever each day I'm missing you.
You know me--perennially conflicted and so damn anxious―I don't process change well. I couldn't accept your sudden metamorphosis.
You were always the fearful one, Mel, or so you thought. Why? Because I told you, but only to cover up my own cowardice. I was afraid of loving you too much―losing my self and being swallowed up. Forgive me that.
I was afraid of love―you weren't, and to prove it you boarded a jet and went alone to the U. K. And when you died, I was the biggest loser after all―I lost something I never meant to let slip away.
And so, here we are, with me writing drunken posts to your defunct email account @blueyonder.co.uk.
Three days after and again at 3 am , you reply. How is that possible? You know I'm afraid to read the text―it'll probably haunt me the rest of my life making the long nights hideous.
If I open this post and find it's legitimate―I mean, if you prove to me by some details that it's really you and not someone playing with my mind, I'll be faced with a real dilemma and I'm not sure I'll be able to handle it.
So, like I said, here we are, with a notice in my inbox in bold type that reads Hello! Hi Gray, bet you tho… It's no more than 20 characters but I sense it's you―it's got your feel.
I'm grasping at straws here , but maybe somehow it's a last message that got delayed...
Yeah, that could happen with snail mail, but not in the digital ether that's so instant and immediate. In a way it's supernatural because there's no distance in the spirit.
Thinking about that reminds me of how I used to tell you that talking with you on the cell phone was like soul-to-soul communication because I wasn't tempted to touch you or distracted by your beauty.
I guess this is soul-to soul now and I’m left with a decision: should I open your letter or delete it forever?
Once I read the text, there’ll be no going back. Even if you say it’s a last goodbye, I’ll go on trying to text you forever.
You know me, how stubborn I am and I won’t give up no matter. So, you’ve replied to my cosmic SOS but what I do next is undetermined.
I'm so afraid, Mel, afriad that this text was real and afraid if I open it and find out it it's not, I'll lose you all over again.
We're not over, but as usual, unsettled and this time, Love, permanently on pause...
