We will probably never stand in the sun together outside. Or the snow. We will talk about the clouds, you will tell me about the stars, but we will probably never stand together underneath the beauty that means so much to us, but separately.
We will never send birthday cards. I probably won’t ever know when your birthday is – even knowing the month feels like I’ve intruded too far, sometimes.
We will never eat together. I have no idea what food you hate, what you love, what you choose when everything in life feels shit and you just need something comforting and easy.
I will never call you mum.
Our families will never meet. You might meet my children, cradle them when they are tiny and young enough not to understand what therapy is… but shortly after, I guess they will have to pull away from you too.
You won’t come to my wedding. We are going to talk on the day but in some ways that makes you a ghost. Present but not really. Knowing you won’t give me a cuddle or a card on the day is heartbreaking.
You will never say “I love you” freely and easily to me.
We will never watch crappy tv together.
I will never see you in non-work clothes.
You will never talk about me to anyone who isn’t another professional. I will always be one of your secrets.
I will never know how to describe you to someone I meet for the first time. The word I want for you doesn’t exist. You will never need to describe me at all.
I will not be able to grieve you when you are gone. I won’t know where to take flowers. I may not even be told. I may find out by googling. If I die, you will only find out if someone remembers to tell you.
I won’t always know if you’re even in the country. I will always worry when I read of atrocities in the news because I will never be sure you aren’t there.
You will never visit my home. I will never go further than your therapy room.
You will never come to save me. Broken down car, stranded after the last tube, really poorly or just having a horrendous day… you will never drop everything and come get me, scoop me up and make it okay.
I won’t ever know if you’re not okay, unless you are SO not okay that you cannot work. Your heart will break and your week will be shitty and you will always tell me that you are okay when I ask.
We will never walk by the sea together. The waves connect my soul to you but we won’t ever stand watching them together.
I will never fall asleep knowing you’re close by. Even though sometimes all I want to do for my hour session is sleep listening to your heartbeat.
You will never love me anywhere close to how much I love you. I will never be as important to you as you are to me. I will be forgotten when you are unforgettable.
We are not permanent. We are both borrowing each other. The permanence my heart yearns for will never be.
That is the worst of all. x