The Hardest Pictures To Take
You said something you could never take back. Tears filled my eyes, my throat stung, my heart paused its beats, my face felt as though a thousand bees just stung it. I packed my purple gym bag, ordered an Uber, and went to a cheap hotel on the outskirts of the city. I swore to never forgive you, to get on a flight the next morning.
But then God intervened, and it sunk it what it really meant to leave. No more coladas, feeling our toes in the sharp sand, wild trips to the safari, my dirty feet on your dash, my sore arm from reaching across to hold your hand in the car, getting tipsy at whiskey samplings, engraving items for all of our anniversaries, wearing the thin rose gold band you gave to me.
In that moment, I had to decide between pride and forgiveness. Pride left me my ego, but stole you away. Forgiveness allowed me to forgive even myself for my mistakes, and keep you. I just had to trust what I learned in Sunday School.
I said something that I can never take back. You don't understand. You don't know what this crazy chemo has been doing to my mind, emotions, my life. You've tried, but I couldn't see it through the haze of grief. You feel abandoned, rejection, unwanted. Tears filled your eyes, your throat stung, your heart paused its beats, your face felt as though a thousand bees stung it. You don't board your flight, and now leave us hanging in the balance.
In this moment, you have to decide between pride and forgiveness. Please choose coladas, photos taken in the Keys where you can see my love reflected through your lens, my hand squeezing yours so tightly as we speak our secret language, wearing the watch I gave you that counts the seconds until I see you again.
Choose the person you that you know is your person, so you do not end up spending the rest of eternity without them. I will, if you will.