My chest hurts. This doesn’t feel right. You better go be the best fucking husband and father that anyone has ever had. We are sacrificing something rare and special for the hope that you and your family are stronger and happier with me gone. You better make every baseball game and stay up late for every science fair project and never, ever forget to buy her roses on her birthday. I will never forgive you for throwing this away if you fuck that up anyway.
The world is dark and in slow motion today. Time drags. I don’t have the energy to cry. I sat in the tub for about two more hours after we got off the phone yesterday. After I finally said I love you for the first time, and goodbye. Then I ran my fingers through my hair and over my skin everywhere pretending they were yours. I keep wondering what little pieces of me you might remember, and wonder with pain how much you can’t remember anymore. Which memories have you needed so many times that they’re more fantasy than memory now? And which fleeting moments burned so brightly that you will never be able to forget, even if you try? What did you want me to do to you that you were too shy to ask for? What parts of me can you still feel and taste when you close your eyes? How many hundreds, thousands of times will you touch yourself and pray that touch was mine? How many days will we be doing that at the same time by chance, together, 3000 miles away?