I always knew i would see him again. We had that sort of connection that words cannot describe. It was instant,it was beautiful and there was absolutely no pressure to be anything we were not. It did not matter if we met after months or a year. it almost felt like we never ended our conversations. Then we would pick them up the next time we met. Like weaving a basket. Or knitting a sweater.
I knew that if one day we met it would still be the same. We would just pick up from last we spoke and continue weaving our basket. He was lovely. I never got to tell him because we never finished weaving the basket. He was strong and beautiful. True to those he cared for and always very sweet. In another life i would make sure our paths crossed differently.
I wonder if he can read this. If he knows that he had a special place in my heart. Because he did. I was just too afraid to pick up the phone and ask him. I was scared that he would be happy and moved on and that our basket would never be fully woven. I was proud and did not want to admit that i enjoyed more than his company and that he would say that it was time to put a full stop to our conversation. I was scared that at that moment i would become undone and all my emotions would show and that all the memories would go. So i hoped that we would bump into each other and i always told myself that i would not leave the conversation hanging this time.
Now, i will never get to tell him any of this truths because he is gone. He left us and i am angry that he had to leave while so young and full of life and energy. I am angry that i did not get to talk to him. I am angry that i was too scared and proud to pick up the phone and talk. I hope he can read this and know that i always wanted our conversation to end well.I hope he was happy.