These are things you learn while consuming a 20 oz bag over the course of just five days.
Yes, I believe I’ve made myself diabetic.
That’s not even the really sad thing. (Let me preface this by saying I debated long and hard whether to post this, fearing it may sound too pathetic.) The other night, deep in a sugar-induced stupor, and feeling a bit melancholy, I found myself reaching out to my late ex … and asking for a sign from the beyond. A sign that he was still around. Watching over us. Watching over his daughter.
So, curled up on the couch with aforementioned bag, I told myself maybe he would speak to me through the hearts. I dove my hand in and pulled out the first.
I lost it.
Heart after heart, I convinced myself he was sending me a message. I smiled through the tears. It didn’t matter that, somewhere tucked back in a corner of my psyche, I still remained rational enough to know nearly all the hearts, in fact, would of course give me the words I wanted so desperately to hear.
One I Love.
But I allowed myself to ignore the rational, if only for a short time, and experience the familiar flood of bittersweet emotions that, each time they come, ultimately leave me a little closer to healed.
The real tragedy in his passing a year and a half ago are the words that were left unsaid. Maybe he was speaking to me through a bag of Valentine candy. Crazier things have happened. And I’ll never stop believing anything’s possible.