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My heart breaks for you to have to carry such a love destined to be unrequited.  The romantic in me wishes the two of you could have another chance, but the realist doubts that can ever be.  She was too hurt by you.  Even now across distance and time, you still have the power to touch her, if only to mortify her.  Still there exists some strange undying connection which refuses to release her and obviously you as well.
 

My inclination to tell you to go to her is strong though misguided.  I would only wish to see the wounds of two I care for healed, the spiritual scars faded.  I yearn to tell you to go to her, to take her once more into your arms and erase the pain, the fear, the hurt.  Would that you could undo the terrible injury you rot within the beauty and innocence of her soul.  I fear I would be doing both of you a disservice with such advice.
 
She has spent her life suffering from the pain you placed inside her.  She has spent her life eradicating any part of you from within her heart.  She has spent her life learning to live somehow with all that was ripped from her by your careless youth and wandering ways.  She has spent her life searching for the safety of one that might provide her haven to mend the spirit you so carelessly assaulted.
 
Such is the waste of love that a thing so precious and pure can so often be abused by the reckless young.  I see you both struggle through your lives neither truly happy, neither ever complete again.  Can such harm ever be undone?  If you knew then what you know now, would you have had the strength to contain your wanton desires and protect that precious gift she offered?
 
Should that you have sincerely changed from that imprudent young man, she is no longer the ingenuous girl you damaged without thought.  She may labor to put you and all you represent into a box never to be re-opened.  Still, she has learned well the way of leaving you behind.  It is as second nature to her now.  She finds some peace in the arms of another.  She has made her choice and is reclaiming those things you once stole from her.
 
This is no cosmic prank, but karmic debt due.  Such it is that we reap what we sow.  Love is a fragile bloom.  Your wild oats sprouted a garden of weeds that choked out the delicate flower that once could have blossomed there and made your life whole.  This your harvest is all that is left to you.  Pittance for the ocean of tears you caused her, small price your one last tear. 

It doesn’t matter
Whatever I do
As soon as I stop
I’m lonely again 
 
It doesn’t matter
How hard that I try
I just don’t fit in
I’m lonely again 
 
Alone in a crowd
Alone with a man
Alone by myself
Alone in my head
 
It doesn’t matter, it never matters
I’m lonely again, oh so lonely again 
 
It doesn’t matter
Who next I’ll be with
Sorrow will claim me
I’m lonely again 
 
It doesn’t matter
Love will deny me
No comfort be found
I’m lonely again 
 
Alone in a crowd
Alone with a man
Alone by myself
Alone in my head 
 
Its lonely alone
So lonely alone 

She was the joy in my heart and the happiness that made me whole.  I don’t know why she came to me only to leave too soon.  I just know my life would not have been complete without having had her in it.  I learned from her that the moment is all we have, so each must be lived and cherished before it is lost. 

She was a beautiful child.  She was the incarnation of the very image I carried with me for all the months I waited for her.  She could have been the wonder that saved me.  For a devastatingly brief time, she was all that made my life worth living.  She was born less than perfect and the prognosis was she had no chance. 

Her medical problems required constant care.  There were endless doctors visits and major surgeries just to maintain her precarious hold on life.  Working, for me, was not an option.  She was a full-time job.  We struggled to survive.  Still each day I shared with her brought me such delight as has never been replaced.

When a tiny, little person made wise beyond her years by her own suffering tells you how proud she is of you . . . it is worth everything!  Every macaroni and cheese dinner out of a box, every trip to the thrift store to find clothes, every night spent by candlelight because you had no power, all fade into insignificance. 

Two weeks later she was gone.  I thought for a while I would die of a broken heart.  It doesn’t work that way though.  You endure the hurt forever.  But our memory now and again fails us.  Today I almost forgot this is the day she passed from me.  Providence though sent me a reminder such to assure I did not miss it.

Please do not mistake my crying as sorrow.  These are a different kind of tears I shed now.  This is the bliss of my remembrances.  On this day I look into that place in my heart that I so rarely go anymore and I learn the lesson once again.  The moment is all we have, so each must be lived and cherished before it is lost. 

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