I wanted a perfect ending. I wanted a goodbye that felt right, a goodbye that felt as cozy and as safe as your embrace. I wanted to tie up our loose ends neatly, without heartbreaks or hard feelings. I wanted an ending that I wouldn’t have to cry over—an ending that wouldn’t break my heart.
But I am painfully realizing that endings to good things rarely work this way. Endings seldom feel warm or comforting, especially when they are endings that involve people we love. They don’t bring us the sense of closure or contentment that I would give anything to feel. Through losing you, I am learning that letting go is never neat and tidy or devoid of feelings. And quite honestly, I don’t think we are made to lose people. I don’t think our hearts are built to let our loved ones go so easily.
Instead, we hold on to what we love. We hold on to what makes us feel good, even when it’s time to let it go. We hold on until our knuckles turn white and our fingers tremble. We hold on until we are forced to let go.
And though I can’t continue to hold on, it feels like I am losing you before I am ready. Like I am losing you before I finished reading our story. I can’t help but feel like our ride has been cut short. Like we have fast forwarded through all of the good parts. And now all I want is to rewind and replay it all. All I want is to pause the clock and soak up the last remnants of joy. But instead, I have to be okay with this. I have to be okay with an ending, even if our imperfect knot feels frayed and undone.
But what hurts the most is my fear that you will forget about me, and that you will forget about us. I fear that this didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me. And I want it to mean something. I want it to always mean something. I don’t want our time together to be washed away in days, or months, or years, like a castle in the sand. I don’t want time to erase the magic that I didn’t even know existed before I met you. Because despite how either of us feel now, we wrote a story that I will keep with me forever. And I hope it’s a collection of memories that you, too, will choose to keep forever.
Deep down, I know that this ending does not erase our beginning or our middle. I know it doesn’t negate the beautiful memories we created or the piece of life we shared together. I know that this ending doesn’t mean we can’t still cherish the goodness we created. The trust. The laughter. The compassion. But I also know it’s not fair to either of us if I keep holding on to you. It’s not fair if I ask you to stay just so I can get through this.
I know it is time to let you go; I know this is our expiration date.
Though painful and immensely difficult, it’s time for me to acknowledge that this is the final scene in our story. This is our coda, our song’s final movement.
And because you are you, and I am me, I don’t want this song to end with bitterness or resentment. I don’t want jagged edges to taint our fairytale, because that’s not who we were. We were more than our hardest moments. And we cared for one another. We truly cared.
I think we deserve an ending that is as special as our time together has been. I think we deserve an ending that pulls us closer, even as we part ways. I think our ending should honor what we had, because what we did share was truly golden. It was irreplaceable. It just wasn’t made to last forever. And maybe this is okay. Maybe it was always meant to be this way. Maybe the best things in life are fleeting. And maybe this was the “best thing.”
So as we do part ways, I want you to know that I won’t forget you. I won’t forget how you made me feel. I will keep our memories in a pocket in my heart, where they will always be safe.
So thank you. Thank you for being a part of my life. Thank you for being the puzzle piece that I didn’t know I was looking for. Thank you for allowing your heart to become so delicately intertwined with mine. Thank you for showing me that kind, gentle love exists.
And above all, thank you for being a part of who I am today and a part of who I will be forever. Our short but sweet story has changed me in the best of ways. And I can only hope the same for you.