Here i am, sitting on my bed. Everything is so quiet. Somehow i ended up browsing through our past conversations, your pictures. The pain is not there anymore. I couldn’t help but smile looking at your beautiful face, the sweet things we used to say to each other. I guess i have finally moved on. I know you’re better off without me. And i wish nothing but the best for you and your family. Maybe our paths crossed for a reason, and for me maybe that would be making me realize that i am capable of being loved by someone as beautiful as you, that no matter what i am or how broken i am inside, someone could love me like you did. And it felt so amazing. I hope i made you happy in the brief time we had together. Chelle, from the bottom of my heart Thank you. I know a part of me will always have you. And everytime i remember you, i know it will always be the happy moments. Take care always <3
What is wrong with me, why do you still keep lingering in my mind, why do i daydream about you still. I know you’re happy and i know i’m no longer part of your life, maybe it still keeps coming back to me,because the love you gave me was so pure, unconditional, you accepted everything about me, and even loved me more for my flaws, well you turned my flaws into good things. and it felt good. I just hope i’ll find that again. Even half of what i had.. I wish you best..
When i think over the girls i’ve been with.. Why do i feel like a toy in a store where kids only take a look at me, take me out of the shelf and hold me while they go around to look at other toys. Some brought me to the counter but at the very last minute they put me back or leave me in the cart. No one actually brought me home
“You are not needy, you are loving.
You are not paranoid, just frightened.
You are not jealous, just caring.”
I woke up to this.. you’re the first and only one to see that.. thank you.
Dear Love,
I have thought of you since we met. I have been in love with you longer than we actually been together. And once i have the courage to move on, maybe this will be a lot easier. But there’s one thing i don’t think i could ever do, and that is get over you. I was too good in keeping my walls up, pushing people away. You caught me off guard. Being with you, that’s how a relationship should be. I still read our past conversations, because maybe i’m trying to get that feeling back then. how good it felt.
Everyday i sleep alone in my bed with my seven pillows,and perhaps that’s how i’m supposed to be. The only girl i promised to marry has her own life now. I can’t help but wonder all the “what if’s”, can’t help but wonder if i still cross her mind, if she still thinks about me randomly while she’s teaching in her class, if she misses the way i touched and kissed her. And maybe the baby we’re supposed to have together is somewhere up in heaven, I had all of that, now it’s all gone.. Like nothing happened, yet i’m here left with all the pain and scars that will always remind me.
I Love You, i will always be yours, forever and always.
A LETTER IN THE LOST WALLET
As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so
I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a
crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.
The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the
return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then
I saw the dateline—1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago.
It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue
stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a “Dear John”
letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the
writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she
wrote that she would always love him.
It was signed, Hannah.
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name
Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information,
the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.
“Operator,” I began, “this is an unusual request. I’m trying to find the
owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a
phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?”
She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, “Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can’t give you
the number.” She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my
story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few
minutes and then she was back on the line. “I have a party who will speak
with you.”
I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the
name of Hannah. She gasped, “Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!”
“Would you know where that family could be located now?” I asked.
“I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some
years ago,” the woman said. “Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter.”
She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living.
I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a
big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a
letter that was almost 60 years old?
Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, “Yes, Hannah is staying with us. “
Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her.
“Well,” he said hesitatingly, “if you want to take a chance, she might be in
the day room watching television.”
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a
guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large
building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.
She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in
her eye.
I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second
she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took
a deep breath and said, “Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever
had with Michael.”
She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said Softly, “I loved
him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too
young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor.”
“Yes,” she continued. “Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you
should find him, tell him I think of him often. And,” she hesitated for a
moment, almost biting her lip, “tell him I still love him. You know,” she said
smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, “I never did marry. I guess no
one ever matched up to Michael…”
I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor
and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, “Was the old lady able to
help you?”
I told him she had given me a lead. “At least I have a last name. But I
think I’ll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find
the owner of this wallet.”
I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red
lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, “Hey, wait a minute!
That’s Mr. Goldstein’s wallet. I’d know it anywhere with that bright red
lacing. He’s always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at
least three times.”
“Who’s Mr. Goldstein?” I asked as my hand began to shake.
“He’s one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That’s Mike Goldstein’s
wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks.”
I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse’s office. I told her
what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed
that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, “I think he’s still in the day
room. He likes to read at night. He’s a darling old man.”
We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, “Oh, it is missing!”
“This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?”
I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with
relief and said, “Yes, that’s it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this
afternoon. I want to give you a reward.”
“No, thank you,” I said. “But I have to tell you something. I read the
letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.”
The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. “You read that letter?”
“Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is.”
He suddenly grew pale. “Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,” he begged.
“She’s fine…just as pretty as when you knew her.” I said softly.
The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, “Could you tell me where
she is? I want to call her tomorrow.” He grabbed my hand and said, “You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I’ve always loved her. “
“Mr. Goldstein,” I said, “Come with me.”
We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened
and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where
Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to
her.
“Hannah,” she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in
the doorway. “Do you know this man?”
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn’t say a word.
Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, “Hannah, it’s Michael. Do you
remember me?”
She gasped, “Michael! I don’t believe it! Michael! It’s you! My Michael!”
He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with
tears streaming down our faces.
“See,” I said. “See how the Good Lord works! If it’s meant to be, it will
be.”
About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home.
“Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!”
It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed
up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked
beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their
best man.
The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a
76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had
to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.
Why did you have to start things with me if you’re just gonna leave me? Which you did. Am i just an experiment to you? I have feelings.you told me things i actually believed. I trusted you with all that i am. I guess you love him so much that it’s alright with you even if i’m slowly dying inside. But who cares right? You were more worried of hurting him and finding out about me than you were scared of loosing me.YOU LEFT ME. if anything happens to me you will never know and i doubt that you would care. you have no idea what i’m going through now at least you have him. What do i have? I have every broken promise you left me.do you know what its like to cry every night for the last three months? Knowing no matter what i do or how hard i try i break into tears just the mere thought of you? How could you do this, when you’re the last person i thought who could ever hurt me. you know what hurts the most? You don’t care anymore, to you I’m nothing when all the while you are everything to me.
