Dear Harry,
I saw Tom today. He and paddy were at the dog park with Tessa. You should seen how happy Paddy was when he saw me. I've missed paddy a lot too. Tom said you've gotten my letter. It's sat on the navy desk in the corner of your room. I'm sure there are many pictures, and a bunch of your journals piled high on it. I'm not there to organize it for you anymore.
I didn't realize how much I missed Tom and paddy and Sam. Tom said you've been moping around the house, feeling sorry for yourself. Why? I thought you had moved on. Isn't that why what happened, happened?
Paddy invited me over. To play with him. Oh, how I wanted to say yes. I really did. But I couldn't bring myself to go to your house knowing you are there. I couldn't bare see you. Not right now. At least not before we've talked everything out. Paddy was ready to cry when I declined. I didn't think I had that kind of power. To make a child, a child that I loved so dearly, cry. Tom told me not to worry about it. That it was for the best. But I honestly don't know if it was. What would've happened if I went to the house. To house in which you once said you loved me. Where we met, where we had our first kiss. A house that held such a fragile relationship, that had been dropped to many times, it broke with a single blow.
I ask Tom if you had opened the letter. The letter that I sent, that still lay on the corner of your navy desk, surrounded by pictures and journals. He said no. That it is sitting there unopened. Maybe you'll get to opening it. Maybe you won't. Maybe when we are old and gray, and settled down with families of our own, your wife, will find the letter. She'll ask you what it is, and you'll have forgotten everything that happened between us. You'll have forgotten all our memories. You'll have forgotten me. And you, unknowing of who sent you this letter, will open it. All the memories of us will come flooding back to you. Maybe then you'll remember me. Maybe then you'll think of how much pain I was in. Your old wrinkled hands will hold onto the now yellow paper, and maybe just maybe, you'll start to cry. Your grandchildren, or maybe even great grandchildren will ask you 'what's wrong grandpa?' And you won't know what to say. You'll sit there in the old white rocking chair that you've wanted forever, and you'll start remembering everything.
Tom, paddy, and I went out to get something to eat after we let our dogs play. Tom saw how hurt I was. He saw something you never did. He took me in his arms, and I cried. I sat in the middle of the restaurant, and cried in front of paddy. I once told myself to never cry in front of paddy, that it'll make him cry. He'll think there is something very wrong, and there probably was, and he'll start crying. But now. Now that I'm in Toms arms, him stroking my hair, like the brother he once was to me, I cried. And it was paddy's turn to stay strong for me.
Maybe Tom has already told you what happened. Maybe now you know that you're the reason I'm crying. Maybe he told you how much I cried, and how paddy got so excited to see me, and Tessa's tail was wagging harder than it had before. Maybe he told you how much I missed them, and how I asked how you were and about the letter. Maybe he gave you a reason to open it, and maybe it'll give you a reason to open this one.
Yes, I miss Tom and Paddy. Yes, I miss Sam, your mom and dad, and Tessa. But most of all... I miss you, Harry. I miss you more than I want to admit. I miss the way you held me if I was sick or upset. How you wouldn't mind me being the cover hog I was. I miss how you danced just to make me laugh when I was sad. I miss how you ordered pizza almost every night because you knew that pizza was my favorite. I miss how you gave me flowers when I was bashed on your Instagram. How you shot down everyone who had something mean to say about me. I miss you. I miss you harry. I miss the piece of my heart that you will always and forever own. I miss everything about you. The person I used to love is gone now. Replaced by someone who I'll never want to know or face. I miss you harry, not the new you that never has anything good to say about anything. The one who never picks up his camera anymore, because it's to painful to go outside with the camera that one held pictures of us, that I'm sure are destroyed along with the harry that I once knew. I miss the old harry. The one who never gave photo creds, or the harry that fought with Harrison almost all the time. I miss the harry that put entire cows in his tea. The harry who said I love you first. Not the one who said I love you last.
No longer yours truly,
Y/n
