I.
"Do you think God makes just one person for each of us? Do you think you can only have one great love of your life?"
When asked, I said, "No", but I don't know the answer to this question. I don't think I'm supposed to know.
II.
When I was 13, a boy fell in love with me. He was 16 and loved me with a respect and sincerity I did not appreciate, could not appreciate. He wrote me a letter to express his feelings because he was too shy to say them aloud. He had beautiful handwriting, a deep strong voice, and an easy smile. He became my first boyfriend. The shyness never went away so we continued to write letters. Somewhere in my parents' garage there is a binder filled with letters, his words of shy affection scrawled in pencil on lined paper. Sometimes he'd play me songs-without-words on his guitar. Looking back, I realize that everything he felt, everything he was too shy to say aloud, was in those songs. We never kissed. We hugged a few times. I was young and didn't understand the depth of his emotions. I ended it. I can't remember the reason now but I know it wasn't good enough. We continued to be in each other's lives and became good friends. I never talked to him about other guys. I knew that beneath the surface of his friendship, his heart ached, that he still loved me. He told me on several occasions, yet all I was able to say was "Thank you for loving me." He didn't deserve the "friend card"; it seemed too cruel. Yet there was no other card I knew of, and so I played it over and over and over again. And I felt awful every time.
When I was 18, I moved to San Diego for school. Shortly before I left, he announced he was leaving on a missions trip to Thailand that would last for several years. His parents held a prayer meeting at their house before he left so I attended with my parents to see him off. He handed me an envelope and an unmarked CD and said, "Please, don't open this till I'm on the plane tomorrow morning." Of course, I opened the letter as soon as I got home. It was long, filled with congratulations and high hopes for college and well-wishes and reminders to keep in touch. In his familiar, beautiful handwriting, he ended by saying he loved me, had always loved me, would continue to love me, and that he had to leave because he didn't know what else to do. He had tried dating other girls or preoccupying himself with other things but found his heart and mind were always with me. He said he knew God was taking us on different paths and that he hoped they would cross in the future.
I cried.
I could not understand--and felt guilty because of it--how this boy-turned-man could just love me steadily and quietly for years knowing that the part of my heart he desired would be out of reach. I felt worse knowing that I could not ease his heartache. The CD was a beautiful compilation of songs, a tribute to our friendship, the letter had said. I listened to it and wondered,
What happens if you fall in love with someone who's not meant for you?
I heard from him a few times while living in San Diego. He'd send a card from Thailand or an instant message if he was in a major town and had access to a computer. It was always good to hear from him. He reminded me of home, of simpler days. Always, he'd end his letters or his messages with, "I still think about you every day. I still love you." It broke my heart every time. It seemed so unfair for him to love one person--me--with such unwavering devotion and not be loved in return.
Over time we stopped being friends. He told me it hurt too much, that it was just too hard for him. I complied. Years passed before I received a random phone call asking for girl advice. A few months later I got a text message just saying, "Hello". The last time I received a text message from him was when I was on my honeymoon. We were in Monterey, and it was late. It said, "Congrats, my mom told me you're getting married." I'll admit that after all these years, I still felt a twinge of sadness for him, felt the need to protect him from the truth. I just said, "Thanks!" and hoped he would leave it at that. A few minutes later I received another text: "When's the big day?" I hesitated before responding. I didn't know what to say aside from the truth, and the truth seemed insensitive. When I needed them most, my words failed me.
III.
I still ask that question, you know. I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life and am married to a man I don't deserve; I live a blessed life. Still, sometimes I wonder about my first boyfriend and other men and women like him who have fallen in love with someone who hasn't chosen them. My heart aches for him, for them. I didn't expect to get so emotional while writing this entry. I cried. I cried because I was there once, and I remember the bottomless ache. I remember loving that person's heart and soul so much I wanted nothing more than to simply be in his life. I chose his happiness over mine, and I continued to love him even after he chose another. Another story for another time.
What happens when you fall in love with someone who's not meant for you? What happens if you love someone who's unavailable?
IV.
Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, I just wanted to say I'm sorry I couldn't love you the way you needed me to.
