Today I mourn for the children we didn’t have, the weight of their unlived lives weighing heavy on my chest. I see their toys, their clothes a mess by the door, their hopes scribbled in journals hidden under the bed. I marvel at their fully formed lives that I could see clearly in my head and it’s a struggle to let them go. I wanted to tell them about you. I wanted them to see where you end and they begin. I wanted to pull them into the fabric that was our love. I wanted to tell them how you were the kindest man I have ever met, how you changed how I believed love could be. I’d always thought men were temporary, always fleeting, always running towards the next best thing. Yet year after year, you stayed. For five years, you made me believe in happy ever afters, in hands-clasped-silver-in-our-hair-seeing-through-the-years-together ever afters. When nobody else stayed, you never left. Until one day, you did.
Today I mourn for the children we couldn’t have.
Today I mourn for the children we will never have. One final look before I say goodbye completely. I run to the closet, pack their things in tiny suitcases, and pack a sandwich for the road. I tell them to take good care of themselves and how I would’ve loved to meet them, how I would’ve wanted to become the kind of father I never had. But things change, people change, and you could hold on to someone but that doesn’t guarantee they’re going to stay. As often as lovers grow into each other, so many grow apart. I tell them that’s what happened to us and the fault was all mine and not theirs. I kiss them one last time. I say goodbye to their tear-stained cheeks and watch their shadows fade slowly into the horizon as they walk away.
♫: Birdy | Wings (2014)