If I wrote you a love letter, I would labour for hours. It wouldn’t be because I don’t know how I feel. I do. It would be because words seem painfully inadequate to capture the essence of it.
It would be because words seem to limit the magnitude of the things we have been through together. The breathtaking, the perfect, the beautiful, the good, the bad, the awful and the ugly.
All of it comes together to pave a road I would never choose not to walk on.
How could I when you have been strong when I have been weak;
When you have loved me fiercely and passionately;
When you have understood that “broken road has always been [my] home and it’s so hard to forget.”
When you love God;
When we have cried our tears of pain, of shock and of loss together;
When you have held me as my body heaved from the endless tears of grief that I held in for so long because there was no safe place to drop them;
When each time I surfaced from the anesthesia, there you were, sitting right next to my head, waiting quietly for me to come back;
When you fed me patiently even though my semi comatose state meant most of the food fell right back out of my mouth;
When you chased me and brought me home when I tried to run away from myself, my crutches and my pain;
When you make me laugh so effortlessly;
When you notice when my hair changes (and when it doesn’t);
When you have a delightful wanderlust matched only by my own;
When I know you secretly want to be an Instagram style icon who posts OOTDs even though you vehemently deny it;
When you understand why I would never, but never, abseil again;
When you have such passionate love for family (and soccer);
When you have the ability to make me exceptionally angry;
When you find my quirks amusing and, sometimes, even funny; and
When you understand that each time we fall, each morning, each day, each night, “this imperfect love can start over again” and be just as beautiful and as fresh as the first day.
The list is endless…. I could never tell it all and I don’t want to. It will stay in the little safe place where my heart, mind and soul intersect.
But if I captured nothing else, I would want to tell you that even though my “second hand heart” has been broken before, it has been lovingly put back together. I would tell you that it is my most prized possession and I have guarded it jealously. I would tell you that it is yours forever. I would tell you that I love you now and I will consciously love you everyday (even when I am mad at you) for as long as we both shall live. I would tell you that “God blessed the Broken Road” that led me straight to you. I would tell you that I will never get tired of reading our love story because “all love stories are beautiful, but ours is my favourite.”
Finally, I would tell you to kiss me.