It could have been California [5minute freewrite]

It could have been California. It should have been California.

The love of the couple in the photograph, your niece and her man, shines out for all to see. So in love, it’s beautiful; so passionate, it hurts.

I hate that photograph, but I cannot look away. That could have been us; that should have been us, that was us. When you look at that photograph do you see me? Do you think of me? I know you do, because I see you in that photograph.

I loved you more than life itself, but on that day, the day you left, I learned the hardest lesson: love does not conquer all.

Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? No, I wished you had died: it would have been easier. At least then you would have left me against your will and I could have moved on. Instead, you are still out there, somewhere, always rejecting me, always taunting me with what could have been. Your lost love haunts me - even now.

I understand why you had to go. Our love for each other was so intense, so firm, so passionate, that for you it became a gilded cage. You needed your freedom, you needed to grow, you needed to flourish, to be you. I needed nothing, except you. Would we have destroyed each other in the end? Probably.

Maybe if you had gone into a great relationship after… But you frittered away your wonderful love on a bastard who betrayed you, cheated on you, and hurt you.

I loved you so much that every minute of every day it hurt. I was so happy, so loved, so blessed. I have never loved anyone like I loved you: before, or since. My wife? Yes, I love my wife - she is my soul-mate, my rock, my anchor. But she is not the love-of-my-life, that was you, always you.

Would I die for my wife? Probably. Would I die for my family? Certainly. Would I have died for you? I did - on the day you left. And I continue to die, every time I remember.

I loved you so much, I let you go. I let you walk away from California.