It’s only been three days since you went to the treatment center, and it feels like forever. I’m so happy and incredibly proud of you for doing this, but selfishly I wish you were here. I miss you so much; my heart breaks at the thought of you being away. I hold the letter you last wrote me so tight as if it were you. I kiss it like it’s your forehead. I look at our pictures, stop and stare at the one where you’re smiling. You’re radiating joy at being right by my side. I hold the phone close to my chest and hug it. Looking at it with a big smile on my face.
Then the tears come streaming down my face. First in sprinkles, then in pools and streams until I can’t breathe. I miss the sound of your voice so much. I took for granted our bond because I always knew you’d be there no matter what. But, I’m afraid, what if when you return, the way you felt about us was never real? What if you never want to see me again? I try not to let these thoughts consume me. I just want you to be happy and healthy. I’m here waiting to see this version of you. I hope that I can be a part of it. However, if I’m not, I’m just grateful to have been a part of your story. I hope God illuminates your path with the most ethereal lights whenever it becomes clouded and grey. I know you’re scared, but you deserve a shot at life without a substance keeping you together or tearing you apart. I love you.