A Father's Day Letter

 To the man I thought I would be a father by now,

Mother's Day was difficult, but today has brought its own complex share of emotions. I've watched you this weekend, playing with so many of our friends' little ones, and I cannot escape the paradox of delight and grief. I can say with so much assurance that you would be an amazing father. I've seen it; I've lived it, and I miss it every day.

If I'm being honest, I did not always want to be a mom. I sometimes wonder if my former disinterest somehow makes me less entitled to this grief. My mind likes to rationalize the things which I cannot control, and as you know, that path can lead me to a dangerous precipice when I let it.

But the truth is that when I met you, I wasn't seeking someone who would be a great father. Ten years ago, I walked into a coffee shop, and I unexpectedly found someone who made me feel loved, wanted, and seen. You took me by surprise, and I fell hard.. and I fell fast. My closest friends were caught off-guard by the swiftness with which we stitched our lives together, but to me, you were the answer to a question I didn't know I had been asking.

At times I wonder if I have received more than my fair share of love in this life, and if it's selfish to wish for more. You have loved me so completely, so generously. You have loved me with a quiet faith that pulls the seam between us even closer when I stretch myself too thin and the fabric is bare in spots from me pulling the garment of us over top my knees as I weep and pray for change. 

With you, I can't help but want for a family. I've seen how the love between us can expand and shelter new life. It seems like a great cruelty to be haunted by shadows once filled with the love we created together. 

Yet, I have learned that Gratitude and Grief are sisters. Gratitude has sustained my Grief, while simultaneously reminding me that I would not exchange Grief for a different story-- I wouldn't change a single detail. My story is you, and in its most painful chapters, I see you most clearly. When Grief and Gratitude hold hands, you are holding me.

So, while you may not enjoy the title of "father" this Father's Day, I hope you know how completely you are loved--- every day.

Thank you for being the seam that holds us.

Love,

Yours