When You Can't Run

There's really no describing it. None of it. I will, of course, try, but I know I'll come far short of making it seem real, making it make sense to anyone not living it. Just like, before this day, I myself didn't fully understand the nature of love, the meaning of companionship and the definition of happiness. I suppose these definitions came along with my understanding of you. I would imagine, were I to make a dictionary of the contents of my mind, there'd be a (see: Europa) appended to each of these terms.

I can't go back to the painful day we spent apart, between our brief visit and the longer one, the one which recently ended. I can't go there because it's past and feels too painful still. I had no idea when (or if) I'd see you again, and did not dare to hope it'd be as soon as it was. I know I smothered you with puppy dog enthusiasm when you got here, but you can't blame me. I thought I'd lost you and to have you back so soon felt like a gift. Still does, in fact. Every day. I feel blessed, there's no other way of putting it. By whom and for what reason, I don't know. Don't care, really. To me, you're the vindication of a lifelong belief in a true, perfect love.

I've never known someone who made me feel so complete. Someone with who m I could share what we've shared. Someone I enjoyed spending time with as much. Someone I didn't almost immediately come to loathe. "Like an equal," she said, and it's true. You are my equal in every way. My partner. My wife. Talking with you is like talking with the other half of my soul. I could do it for days, and have at this point. Which is something altogether new, and wonderful. Even fighting with you, as we discovered today, is a loving, generous and … (there's no other words for it) satisfying experience. It's as if, at every step, I know what you need and can give it to you without thought, without reserve. And I feel the same from you. The week we spent together was the best of my life. I've said this before, so often, but it bears repeating, from you I'm learning what it means to love. What it means to be human, to need someone and to love them. Truly. Unconditionally and completely.

I've written and talked about those days so often, and at such length, almost to whoever will listen, that I can't distill the experience any further. I know I don’t have to. I know you were there. I know you love me. Just feeling that is exquisite. Looking in your eyes and feeling the rest of the world melt away. Seeing you as you really are. Seeing myself reflected back at me through your eyes. Feeling as if we're one, in every way. There's no other word for this. I love you. I am in love with you. You are the other side of me. When you bare gone, I feel empty, incomplete, and full of holes.

And that's how I feel now. With the addition of helplessness, because I can't be with you to hold your hand, look in your eyes and reassure you that everything will be OK. Hold you when it's all too much, and bring you down when you need it. You say I'm helping by … I don't know. But I believe you. Still, I need to be with you because I know you need me. And I just plain need to be with you for myself. The days aren't short enough when we're apart, and when we're together, they fly by in minutes. Time is my enemy.

I'm going to marry you. I'm going to love you until the end of our days. I've let you go twice now. The first time I didn't expect to see you again. I was crushed and miserable. I screamed, yelled and would have pulled my hair. The second time was worse. I knew I'd see you again, but not when or how. And I knew you needed me. Knew you'd be in pain and that I could help, but couldn't. That was worse. Letting you go to face that alone, was much, much worse. I know you feel lost and alone and confused and incomplete, but I’m here. I'm here waiting. And I don't know if I can keep this promise or not, but I have to say (have to say it) that I'm not letting you go again. I can't. I may break. I may actually break, and I just can't. When I see you next (and it will be soon!) I may never let you go. And if I have to, if I must … well, then that will be an interesting day, as Jayne says.