I used to write across the table from you,
Or next to you.
I was comfortable being silently vulnerable,
Emotionally bare,
With you there,
Sitting,
Doing your own thing,
Drinking coffee,
Writing a paper.
Somehow you made feeling
Easier, more clear.
Just with your presence.
It seemed like you were encouraging,
Pushing me to feel those parts of myself that weren’t so
Comprehendible.
You were gentle in your desire for me to work through it.
I know you’d look at me
Sometimes when my head was down writing
And think how you love me.
I knew you loved me.
You knew I loved you,
Although I should have said
It more often in words.
Maybe you didn’t know.
That would be a tragedy.
I’m sorry.
I saw you process heartbreak.
You saw me process mine.
I was with you after a wedding
That was particularly hard.
I prayed for you.
You prayed for me.
We had a sort of closeness
So natural I forgot to give thanks.
Do I thank the Lord for air?
You’d walk by the window I’d sit at,
Often times a child in tow,
And I’d never not be happy.
It was so regular,
So everyday.
It went on that way.
I was with you when you cried sometimes.
I’d take your hand.
Sometimes I was the cause.
I’m sorry.
You held my hand during a panic attack.
I think it was a panic attack.
You drove me home so I
Wouldn’t have to take the train.
I hugged you closely.
You did a summer drive with me.
We fought, we reconciled,
And things began to change.
When I hugged you at the airport
I felt my feelings rearrange.
I missed you that June
In a way that was new.
You did for me too.
So we changed things.
Flying to see if it was right,
I held you as you stood on an
Illinois curb that night.
You held me back.
I’ll never forget that.
The next part doesn’t make
Too much sense to me now.
It’s hard to write about.
How it happened the way it did.
I taking almost everything for granted.
I can’t look back on it without seeing
Your love for me
And my idiocy.
My lack of humility
And your sincerity.
Your desire for it to work out
And my foolishness to say we should “reevaluate.”
“Reevaluate?”
What a psychopath to talk like
We were in a business meeting.
As if our Q3 performance meant
We should dissolve the corporation.
The reality is it was all me.
My issue, in not
Loving you well.
I thought we weren’t working
But I wasn’t.
I wrote and thought a lot about humility.
I still do.
Only now it comes with a deeper sense of urgency,
An almost helpless flailing, realizing how short I fall.
I want to fix what I did, or didn’t.
Not learning,
Not striving,
Not posturing myself as a servant
With you in mind.
Not saying “I miss you” differently,
In a way you could feel.
Not using doordash from across the country
To get you a meal,
and maybe save you a little work.
You can forgive me all you want,
And I’m sure you will,
(Not to be presumptuous, but I know your heart.)
But I can’t fix it how I’d like.
That’s okay,
I don’t need too.
That’s just another form of pride I need to discard:
An attempt to erase that I had ever done harm,
An attempt to reinstate myself as your safeguard.
That’s not the work I need to do.
I still have that tan from when you
Missed a spot in September.
I don’t know how long it will be there.
Eventually it’ll be gone.
Things always change,
More quickly in appearance than nature.
This will change too.
I will change too.
I am changing because of you:
A catalyst God sent to bring me
Closer to Him.
A companion in my life
That loved me through my sin.
A comfort across the table,
The one who will always be my friend.
I pray to be yours.
With my name,
Always,
Love,
Joshua
Look Down, Be Here 