I have battled it all over in my mind as to what I would prefer. Would I prefer to not know you are going? Would I prefer that we talk about it rather than avoid the conversation? Would I want to know the ins and outs of what will finally take you away from me? I really don’t know what would be best, none of it would hurt any less. It’s still going to be scary but it has made me realise one thing. I wish I had known you better.
I always laughed whenever a family member mentioned how dysfunctional we can be, but now it’s not so funny. Hearing stories with only a few months left feels too late, I want to know everything. I want to hear about your past. I want to know what made you like you are, why it’s so difficult for you to communicate. I want to be able to tell you that I hated not seeing you for so long, I wanted to tell you how scared I was but instead I sat there and let you give me your things, knowing that you were saying goodbye. But I don’t know you well enough to say anything, to ask questions. Then I wondered if you felt the same. Are all my fears similar to yours? I assume it scares you, more so than I, that you will never get to see me graduate, or have children. Sometimes I think, did you ever want to ask me things and what made you stop? But the same goes for me. Is concealing the truth from your friends and family making it any easier for you? I like to think it helps you to cope, because however much it is hurting me, feeling like I am in the dark about things, if it lessens any pain you have then I would prefer that over anything. I keep trying to convince myself it’s not too late, as the cliché goes, it’s never too late.
But how can over a decade of family disputes really come to an end when you leave? Why do you have to go for us all to realise that the arguing and ignoring was not worth it, it was all a waste of time and it really is too late. You were the one I missed. You were the one that loved books and read to me constantly. You were the only one who would play Rummikub with me when I was 6 years old and let me eat a whole tub of tomatoes right before Christmas dinner because you knew how much I loved them. But then things all went wrong and now we are here, knowing you are leaving me soon. It hurts so much. If I could go back I would, that goes without saying.
I just think of the times we did have.
No one can take them away.