When did I become so difficult to love?
Because I remember how carefully you brushed my hair, the love in your hugs, the tenderness in your smile. You were my best and most trusted friend.
I remember the excitement of receiving your letters every two weeks in the mail. And how you came home to pick what’s yours, lift me in your arms, and took me away with you.
You loved me even when you hated me.
I can still see the love in your eyes when you saw me all in white walking down the aisle. Your proud face when we were expecting. Your thoughtfulness, your big heart, your protective hugs.
I remember when you bought me all those plants just so I could have a better view. I remember your daughter’s little hands on my face. I remember you fixing all that didn’t work around my house.
You took care of me that time when my heart was in pieces. You were my rock. My home. My everything.
You opened my heart again. You showed me how fun life can be. You lightened my days. You touched me so softly. You felt honoured to have me.
When was it then?
Because I can still remember when you called me beautiful names. I remember you taking me to places that you knew I would love. I remember you going down that mountain with me.
My days were of interest to you and we were curiously exploring the brightness of our hearts. I remember when my presence made a difference in your life and how excited we were to spend time together.
We supported one another. We laughed and cried together. We imagined how Friday night dinners would look when we were 80.
I remember how fun it was to dance with you, read books with you, go deep into metaphysics with you. Explore philosophies and theories. How a simple look would be enough to understand one another. How I could only let my guard down when in your arms.
I remember just being me and feeling loved and accepted. I remember how it felt to be truly seen and witnessed.
I remember being enough.
But as much as I try, I can’t remember—when did I become so difficult to love?
When was it? Please tell me. I must know.
When did I become a not good enough reason to stay?
Please tell me. I must know so that next time you come along, you come to stay. And when I know, I will fix it. You know me and you know I will. I will think it and feel it and practice it until I master it, so that next time your love will have fewer reasons to cease.
Because it has to be me, right?
Maybe I kissed you too sweetly. Sometimes too soon, sometimes too late. Maybe my eyes showed you too much of my soul and my hands gave you too much affection. Maybe I loved your presence too much. Maybe I read too much and talked too much. Maybe I appreciated your opinions too much and made you think too much about things you didn’t want to. Maybe I had to be more upfront or less upfront. Maybe I should have kept quiet and not asked you that question.
It could have been my age because sometimes I was too young, sometimes too old. Maybe because I am too active, walk too fast, lift too hard, dance for too long, laugh too loud.
It could be the ever-changing colour of my skin or the colourful intensity of my million thoughts. Maybe I should have kept my music, my paintings, my writings to myself…maybe they reveal too much depth.
Maybe, sometimes, I was not enough and sometimes I was too much—but I was always just me and, for a moment, that was just what you wanted too.
Can you see my dilemma and what I’m trying to decipher? When was the moment when everything changed?
So while 2019 has ended, I want to thank you for the moments you made me feel like sunshine. There were many.
I remember them all. I never took them for granted and I will always keep them close to my heart. Thanks for the joy you brought to my life and the times of silly lightness that brightened my days.
In 2020, I will wear my heart wide-open. I will be brave, walk with my head up high, barefoot, looking ahead. I will love you always and forever. We will dance, we will talk through the nights, we will grow, we will be who we are. We will feed our curiosity, opening up to all the beautiful possibilities.
And maybe, one day, I will meet you again, the real you. And you will meet me, the real me.
And you will see me just I am.
And this time, you will love me for it.