Actually, this is something that I kept putting off because I dreaded it so much. Days of promising myself that I would write tomorrow became weeks. Weeks became months, and now months have become a year. A year. It sounds so inept. Such a tiny word to encompass so very much. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I’ve thought of you over and over in the past year. Wondered how you were doing, wondered if you blamed me the way I blame myself. I know you must be reading this and feeling as though I don’t deserve a moment’s thought, since I pretty much disappeared from your life after Paul died. It wasn’t something I planned—It was something that kind of just happened. It seemed easier. I know it sounds like the coward’s way out, but it’s the only explanation I can give for it. It doesn’t excuse me, but I’m not looking for excuses. Just forgiveness. It’s been a year, Zoë, and we’re both living lives that have been changed by that one moment, one loss. I’ve healed much more in the past year than I thought I ever would be able to, but at the same time, I know I can’t fully heal until this one thing is done.
What do You think about Coming Home To You (2014)?
