I’m grieving a version of you that no longer exists.
You didn’t die, but that same feeling of loss persists deep inside. I wish. I wish I could relinquish myself from the never ending cycle of “What ifs”.
What if I did this, what if you’d done that. What if for one second, one moment, we both accepted our contribution to atonement.
“What ifs” will never serve me, but forever sit on a shelf, pretty little packages wrapped in memories of you. The version of you that I will always miss.