Have you ever loved so hard it seems you’re encompassed by all you feel? Have you ever loved so hard nothing else mattered except who(what) you fell in love with? Have you ever loved so hard that when you fell out of love, it felt like you lost yourself with it? Sunk into an abyss of never-ending despair, swallowed by the whirlpool of ever-repeating memories, absorbed in the maelstrom of emotions with no way out?
I loved and felt loved. I let loose and let love love me the way I felt love could love me till I lost love. I thought I was the one who had love, but when love let me go, I realised love had me instead. There are no excuses for what I let happen neither is there any space for sad and pitiful “if I had known’s”, but, if I had known, I wouldn’t have let love let me go. Everyone is in the other room happily chattering about everything and nothing, a noise the grief in me refuses to let me bear. All I want to do is to think about the one I lost, the one who left, the one I let go of. I miss you, Mikayla.
She was my first love and first kiss, my first of everything. We were nothing but kids when she first kissed me. We were 5, two curious giggly kids wearing more sand than swimwear, when we saw them. They looked like they were fighting some sort of battle with their lips, an intensity to the way they held onto each other, a softness to the smiles settled on their faces as they gazed into each other’s eyes when they were done. We were excited and curious till we tried it. It was awkward as it felt like nothing ever felt before. The feeling of wanting to hold her the same way they held each other filling me up with some giddiness. I wanted to hold her hands for forever.
I made my first promise to her at 10, gangly limbs and braces all on display as I stared into her mischievous eyes embraced by round rosy cheeks stretched into a wide smile.
I kissed her again at 16. A real kiss now. She had grown into the finest woman I ever knew at 16. She made my heart beat even faster than it had 6 years prior as I asked her to let me have her as mine till she hates the sight of me. I made another promise to her this time around. Promise to hold her heart with the care it deserves, to cherish her as much as I can till I couldn’t, to love her according to my definition of love, to learn about her and love her the way she wants. Every kiss was to strengthen my promise every time.
I let her go when we were 18. She was beautiful, even in death, a soft smile on her face as she took in her last breath. It had been a tough year and she decided to stop fighting. She was tired of clinging onto a frayed thread, she said. She didn’t want to keep holding on when her hands were too slippery to have a full grasp. She had no other means to hold the broken ends together, she said. She kissed me for the last time before she settled for her final nap before passing in my arms. I was sedated for a month, a measly way to keep the nightmares away. I kept seeing her behind my closed eyelids, tears at the corner of my eyes for days on end.
Tears dripping from my eyes keep blotting my words yet I have to let them out. What was I missing, Mikayla? Did I not hold onto you tightly enough, my love? Was my grip too tight? Was I hurting you too much? Did I love you enough before you let go? Did I at least fulfill one of my promises to you, darling?
Signed,
A🖤💜