I’ve always written to you.

When I’m grateful to and for you, when I’m proud of your accomplishments or when I’m cheering you on.

I’ve written to you on special occasions – like Valentine’s or your birthday or on our anniversary, or even when we broke up the first time, or simply when I just feel like writing to you.

I’ve always written to you notes I didn’t know you still kept. I’ve written love notes more than I’ve spoken I love you’s.

I’ve always written to you and tonight’s one of those times I feel like writing to you. While the feelings are still here and I’m writing freely without fear.

This doesn’t get to you, though. Unlike all the other letters I gave you. This goes out to the universe. Unlike all the other letters I handed out to you in private.

And if ever you find out, this one I don’t think you’ll still keep. Because I’ve written more than I should.

I’ve always written about how bad it had been since you were gone. I’ve written how hurt and wounded I was. I’ve written more painfully than I should.

But tonight I’m writing again to and for you. I’m writing away the hurts and the wounds as I let go of the pain. I’m letting go of the pain.

I’m keeping the good ones.

I’m keeping the laughters and the good old jokes we exchanged. I’m keeping the smiles and funny make faces.

I’m keeping the moments hands are held during worship concerts. I’m keeping the songs sang in duet while walking along.

I’m keeping the notes we learned from the talks we attended. I’m keeping the yearning for wisdom and self-improvement.

I’m keeping what you taught me about faith and service to the community.

I’m keeping the friends I met because of you.

I’m keeping the memory of that Valentine’s morning cardio and gastronomic bonding where we shared our life goals.

I’m keeping the memory of those lazy afternoons I sit with you in the living room, playing with your mobile games.

I’m keeping the memory of those amazing nights we watched the sky glow with fireworks.

I’m keeping the memory of you being the man of my dreams.

I’m keeping the rare I love you’s and kisses on the cheeks.

I’m letting go of the bad and wrong and sinful. But I’m not fully letting go; I’m keeping the good.