25 years from now

I know a man who is well-respected in his community. He has been married for 37 years and has children and grandchildren. He lives in a beautiful home and is highly regarded in his profession. 

For some reason that I do not understand, he confessed something to me that he has never told anyone. I had not known him long, but something in me inspired him to talk.

He told me about a woman he loved. He was married and stationed abroad when they met and he fell deeply in love with this person who wasn't his wife. He tried to stop himself seeing her - but he couldn't. She mattered too much to him. She loved him in return. At first, he decided he would be with her - they would be together. He put a down payment on a house, and asked her to be with him. But she wasn't ready to leave her life for the gamble. And so they parted ways. Ten years later, they met again. And the same feelings were there - as strong as they had been before. Nothing had changed, except ten years of absence and pain. For three years, they met in private - as often as they could each get away. She had time to consider her previous decision and knew that she couldn't live without him. She gave up the trappings of her life and extended herself as far as she could to be with him. But this time, he couldn't make the sacrifice. It was too much to lose. It was too frightening. He left.

Nearly another decade has passed, and there is not a day that has gone by that she is not on his mind. Every day, he writes her a love note that he never sends. His wife does not know.

"It is difficult, when you feel for someone that way," I said to him.

"I don't feel," he said, clearly repulsed by my choice of words. "I ache."

He is desperately sad. The life around him is well-ordered and neat. He has a wife who loves him and grandchildren. And every day is hell for him.

"Two years ago," he told me. "The sadness became terrible. I was at a conference, away from home, and I...took steps. You understand what I mean?"

"You tried to end your life?"

"Yes."

"I understand," I said.

"They were discrete about it. I was in the hospital for a week, but nobody at my work knew. They still don't know."

It horrified me to hear this. I hoped that the pain would fade for me. God, I hope it does.

"If she still means so much to you," I said. "Tell her. Go to her. Tell her."

"I ruined her life," he said. "She never moved on. She lives alone. She is sad."

I became angry with him.

"Fuck that," I told him. "And fuck you. If she means so much to you, then act. Go to her. Tell her how you feel. If you are to her what Sjors is to me, then she continues to love you. She continues to ache for you."

"She hates me."

"Maybe. But that doesn't mean she doesn't love you. She hates you for denying the truth. For being a coward. I hope you do feel bad for what you did to her - but only if it stimulates you into action. I believe that a profound connection with another soul is the most sacred of experiences. The only think you can do now is offer honesty. I look at you and I see Sjors in 25 years. Don't bemoan your lost love. If she is still there, then fight for her."

"My situation is complicated," he protested. "I can't take an action without hurting someone."

"You must live a life of integrity," I said. "That is all I know. And right now, you're living a lie."