Letters to Goodbyes I
[to the p a s t]
Two years ago tomorrow she and I talked—that best friend of mine—and I still wonder if I heard you. And if I had, would I have understand what you (what she) really meant? She left me lonely for a Halloween outing, but I couldn’t help calling her to try to make plans. She said we could do this or that. Maybe she hesitated a little, but if she did I thought it was because she didn’t really want to do any of that, not because she knew she was lying. One day and we went from doing everything together to—well, she left. Two years ago tomorrow. Maybe, maybe she said you before we hung up. I wish I could remember. Instead, my imagination mangles it, and I have to sit here and write instead of say.
I’m grateful to have seen her since, but even when she’s there she’s gone. There’s no you to make it official, but I know it’s true because I still miss her. I don’t necessarily miss the silly things we did, but I miss that we could do them.
And you, Goodbye? You’re still standing in every door, keeping me from letting the elephant out of the room. This isn’t anger or grudge speaking, just need and longing. I wish she’d named you two years and a day ago and I’d known what you… what she… meant. I don’t like you, but I love her. When she left, you should have been there.