Once we said our love would transcend time and space: that nothing could ever come between us. I promised our relationship would be forever but I confess I didn’t anticipate this. Things just aren’t the same in the last few months. I know it sounds shallow but I want that warm vibrant girl back; the one I fell in love with.
A candle-lit dinner and plum rich Merlot isn’t the same if your lover can’t eat and drink with you – our beautiful fireplace can warm only one of us. When it comes to sex, I’ve really tried, but your icy touch is too clammy for my taste: those familiar intimacies more terrifying than exciting.
Before your death you had friends and a job: something to do with your time. Now you just hang around the house all day moaning: I can’t get a moment’s privacy. And it’s stressful keeping up the charade of bereaved widower: our friends keep organising blind dates for me and I’m running out of excuses.
I want to thank you for the best decade of my life but things have changed: your constant presence is making me feel trapped, a living death, as if things will never change. So I have to get out.
I’ve sold the house to a nice young family with two young children (I know you always wanted daughters – so now you can watch them grow). I wish I could have told you face to face but I’m still having nightmares about your last tantrum and I can’t afford to replace the plumbing and electrics again.
Goodbye my love,