By the time you read this, I will be gone.
We will never see each other again. But please don’t be sad. It’s not you, it’s me.
No really… it is me.
Much as I’d like to stay with you a bit longer, no-one has found a way to halt the progress of time.
I’m getting older. It was inevitable. We knew it couldn’t last forever.
Thanks for the memories. I can honestly say you have brought about the most life changes. I went to hell and back with you.
But the important thing is that I’m back.
And I can’t tell you how grateful I am, for sending me into the next decade knowing Donna (warts and all) for the first time, and finally accepting her.
When we first got together I was so naive.
Married for 6 months, with a decent career. Believing all I had to do was get pregnant and I’d have it all.
Losing 2 babies showed me life wasn’t like that.
And then having 2 babies was no bowl of cherries either.
Don’t get me wrong. I love them to bits. They are my finest work, and we went through so much to have them.
I just never believed all that crap when people said kids were a hard slog.
And I didn’t count on PND.
So here I am, 10 years older, a little wiser, and a fair few lbs heavier (that’s the bit I’m trying to change).
If you’d told me when we met what you were about to put me through, I’d have drop-kicked you in the ‘nads (do decades have ‘nads?)
But how can I regret a time in my life which produced this…
So off I go to my 40s, which is bound to be a smoother relationship than my time with you.