You & I, Rewritten

by Chip Pons

“Grief never ends, but it changes. It is a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign or weakness nor a lack of faith, it is the price of love.”

There’s just something I love about new beginnings. The chance to wipe your slate clean, completely starting anew in an environment where people know only what you want them to know.

There is something so magnetic about being around him, as if at any moment I’m going to physically combust.

Wrapping my arms around his toned body, I inhale the uniquely spicy smell that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head. I make a mental note to see if I can find something similar to spray around my apartment because I never want to be without that smell.

“There is no such thing as too much cheese,” she says, her laser-like focus now turned toward fixing what I’d been working on. “That’s for sure going on your headstone.” “You know what’s going on yours? Mediocre at handling meat?” Jaw. Dropped. Getting roasted by Klair is easily one of my favorite pastimes, but this one just might take the cake. “Holy shit…that’s going in the book,” I say, struggling to breathe between my laughter as I take out my phone and add this exchange to my ever-growing note of Klair burns.

“The stories we tell, the ones that we are privileged enough to be the keepers of and share with the world, sometimes those stories, and the authors who write them, need protecting.”

But…no, it’s just that with him, it feels like exhaling. That’s the only way I can describe it. Like I’ve been holding this breath my entire life,” I point to my heart. “And then this man comes along, and he sees me for who I am, and for the first time in my life, I can just be.”

“But I think at some point, I gave up on looking for something real…something worth living for…because for the longest time, I woke up every single day feeling unlovable and not worthy, and I felt so guilty feeling that way because of you.”

“Dad, you loved me like I was your own blood—no questions asked—from the very first moment you met me. You’ve raised me and been by my side every step of the way and you made sure that I knew I was loved and safe and special. Yet there I was begging for the love and approval of a man who couldn’t care less about me.”

“You had the audacity to come rushing into my life with your big and beautiful feelings, Will Cowen, and you decided that I was worthy—worthy of your time and your heart.”

My father, one of the few people on this earth who is genetically programmed to love me, could not or would not choose me. An act that has left a scar on my heart so deep, so profoundly mangled, and unfixable, that I’ve convinced myself I’m unworthy of love from anyone, unless I’m this perfect version of who they want me to be. Love has always felt conditional.