Dear Henry,
Tomorrow, you'll be someone's husband. Not mine. Never mine.
I've loved you silently for so long, these words feel foreign on paper. But I need to write them, even if you'll never read them. I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about your passions. I love how you always know when I need a hug, even before I do, your arms are a sanctuary I'll never truly call home. I love your kindness, your strength, your imperfections, every freckle, every scar, every flaw that makes you perfectly you.
I love you, Henry. I've loved you since that first day at uni, when you smiled and my world shifted on its axis. I'll love you long after you say “I do” to someone else.
Tonight, I'll let myself imagine a world where things were different. Where I was brave enough to tell you how I felt. Where you loved me back. It's a beautiful dream, but tomorrow I have to wake up. Tomorrow, I have to watch you marry someone else and smile like my world isn't ending.
This is my confession, my release, my goodbye. I'm sorry I couldn't be the one for you. I'm sorry I wasn't enough, that my love wasn't loud enough to reach you. I'm sorry for loving you more than I should have, more than you ever asked me to. I'm sorry that even now, on the eve of your wedding, my treacherous heart won't let you go.
Tomorrow, as you start your new life, a part of me will die. The part that hoped, that dreamed, that loved you without restraint. I'll leave it behind in that church, buried beneath rice and confetti and shattered possibilities.
Forever yours, silently and completely,
Celine
June 14, 2018
