Dear Ben.

I don’t really know what to say. It’s been 1.5 days since you called it quits and my soul is just…ripped. You are funny, and kind, and such a good dad. I could talk to you.

And now I can’t.

Because you quit. And I realized today that my pain isn’t yours to carry, it’s mine. There are so many things I want to say to you.

It started in a park in Laurens. We played hopscotch and I gave you a ring pop that said “marry me” and we danced. And I told you not to dance with me if you didn’t mean it.

And then you came over

And then it was Newberry.

And then you came over. And stayed the whole weekend. And cleaned my gutters.

And then you went and drove to Texas to pick up your kid and I fell in love with you.

And then there were nerf gun wars and pollywogs and dates in the park.

And then you got Covid.

And then you got distant.

And then you said you couldn’t do it all.

And the piece that got left out of the box, was me.

And I’ve never figured out how to say goodbye without losing it.

And I still hope that you’ll come back.

Maybe tomorrow will hurt less.

But I know that I will love you regardless.


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