I was thinking about shells today. I saw a woman with a shirt that had them, and I remembered the beach, and you, and this box...

Being sad about the things I miss isn’t loving you. It never was. Loving you was so much bigger than that.

I don’t think I can stop loving you. I think it’s a part of me now, and it’s never leaving. It makes me who I am, and I used to think this crippled me, but I don’t think it does anymore. Loving you has given you back to me.

I’ve missed you. The old you. You never really came home, and I understand that now, and I know it wasn’t your fault or mine or anyone’s.

The fact that we didn’t get to do the little plans hurts more than the big ones, sometimes. It wouldn’t have mattered about a house or the island. Sometimes I stop myself at work and realize I’m never going to sit in Van’s noodle house with you,

I think –
I think that, the point of it all, is that the moment at the beach? I had never really understood who I was until then. That’s who I am. That person, and there, right there, next to me, that was you. That’s who you are.

It’s so wonderful to know that I didn’t lose you. That we were always right where we were supposed to be the whole time. This whole time I thought I’d lost you, and there you were…

I’ll be okay.
Once, you told me it didn’t seem right to say goodbye. Not really. I thought I’d have to – I thought I’d
have to let go of everything I loved about you, but I don’t, and you were right, and wouldn’t you be pleased with yourself to know.

The truth of it has never been clearer to me, my darling.
And you are, always, my darling.
Yours,
Cas
See you then