I am sorry that I was not enough

When you found me and I found you, I was wrecked.

I was lost, and I was lonely. Trying to heal.

I think you were all of those things too.

Two lost, damaged people who found each other at sea.

There was room enough for two on the door that we clung to.

You taught me more than anyone else in my life before or since.

Technical things. Practical things. New places. New Experiences.

I had fun, and I hope you did too. I think you did at the time.

You and I made a great partnership. Our personalities supporting each other.

The sum of us greater than each of us.

We clung together and made it out of the darkness.

At least I did, but I don't think you ever really did.

Looking at you and how much you did for me, I could only see your strength and not the shadows that clung to your heart and mind.

Looking at myself and how much you did for me, I could only see my weaknesses and how much I needed you. 

I could not imagine the doubts inside of you, and I could not see your fears. I could not see how you acted from those fears. 

I know that I would not be here today but for your part in my life.

I am sorry that I was not enough for you. I could not rescue you the way you rescued me.

We met in May for the second time, the time that it counted, when we started.

I last saw you in May eleven years later. You did not even come to the legal ending. 

Sometimes were challenging. Sometimes we challenged each other. Sorry for my part in that.

They say to put on your oxygen mask before helping others, and in the end I think I did that.

I was just too late to save you too. I could not follow you back into the dark.

You needed to go back, and I needed to go forward. 

I could not fix what was broken, and you could not fix what was broken. And we could not fix anything anymore.

I owe you for letting me go and leaving. The way you did hurt and confused, but in the end it was a clean break.

I am glad no one thought I had hidden your body somewhere when you disappeared.

You left a note that said you would come back. Maybe you believed that when you wrote it.

You had moved on with your life, even if you did not admit that to yourself yet.

That last year was hard, trying to hold on to you, trying to find a door we could float on together.

My next chapter has turned out great. Career. Family. Success in every measure. 

I just wish that I could have shared that success with you, because you earned a share from your investment in me.

Instead you became just someone I used to know. But still...

We will always have Paris. And Rome. And San Juan. And New York. And San Francisco. And Toronto.


Popular posts from this blog

Poem for Tim

Identity Archetypes

The Problem with Modern Stoics