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Dear Gem…
Ruben always tells me to find a bright side in every bad situation. He suggested I make a list and look at it whenever I miss you too much. Wasn’t easy, but I came up with a few things.
Bright Side Number One:You’re not dead. Obviously. I’m glad Aveena was wrong. Your pulse wasn’t strong, but it was there. And that’s all that matters.
Bright Side Number Two:You didn’t get shot. It came close, but in the end, the bullet grazed you, and while there was a lot of blood, it didn’t do any real damage. The doctor said they don’t know if you could’ve recovered from a severe blow to the head, loss of oxygen, and getting shot. Things could’ve been way worse, and for that, I’m grateful.
Bright Side Number Three:I think your dads are starting to warm up to me. I visit you every day, leaving them no choice but to be around me. Gaten brought me coffee and a cookie from the vending machine last night, so that’s progress.
You’ll also be happy to know that I saw your dads getting real close in the waiting room. They’ve been finding comfort in each other. Maybe they just needed to fall apart before they could fall back together.
Oh, and the doctors finally decided to get you off the meds. They said you should wake up on your own soon enough, and all that’s left for us to do is wait.
So, that’s what I’m going to do.
I’m going to wait for you, Gem.
However long it takes.
- Finn
* * *
Week Three Without You:
Dear Gem…
Something’s wrong with time.
I swear the days have been getting longer. The seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like hours. Especially at night. I haven’t been sleeping well, constantly afraid that I’ll miss a phone call from the hospital.
Things are pretty much the same as they were last week. You still haven’t woken up, but the doctors say you should come to any day now. They didn’t take you off the drugs that long ago, and the time it takes people to wake up from medically induced comas often varies, but we’re starting week three, and I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I’m kind of losing my shit.
On a brighter note, I found something on the back seat of my car the other day.
A letter from my mom.
I thought I’d lost all her letters in the fire, but this one must’ve fallen out of the box when I was carrying it from the car to the guest house. I don’t know how it happened, but I’ve learned not to question the good things in life.
Speaking of letters, I’m pretty sure I never told you this, but the day I left town, I took the letters I wrote in therapy when I was fifteen with me. I went through each and every one of them a few days back, and one letter in particular caught my attention.
The letter was about my heart and how much I hated it. I called it a fraud, said it was a stupid organ that hogged the credit for every love story ever written, but now… when I think about my heart?
I think about you.
You’re my heart, Dia.
You crept into my chest back when I thought it was destined to stay empty. You showed me what it meant to love someone more than you hate yourself.
I thought you should know that I changed my mind. I don’t hate my heart anymore. But I do miss it.
I guess what I’m trying to say is…
Dear heart, I miss you.
- Finn
* * *
