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Dear Caroline,

I think there’s a Nickelback song with that title… I don’t know if I’m more upset that I can’t think of a better title for this letter or that I know that.

Today is hard. It’s rainy and gloomy and cold. Perfect cuddling weather. Cuddling on the new furniture that we picked out together for our home. Cuddling in front of our new entertainment center with the built-in fireplace that we chose together. Surrounded by the pillows I made with you in mind. Our furry babies asleep at our feet, including the were-chihuahua that loves you so much.

Every day is harder. Every day I open your side of the closet and stare. I touch the towel you left hanging in the bathroom. I move your toothbrush to grab mine. I curl up around your pillow at night, sleeping in our bed, in any bed, for the first time in a long six years.

I miss you.

Every day I remind myself that we’re one day closer, that we’re another step further, that we’re moving in that direction. The direction that brings you home.

We have a joint bank account now. Joint credit cards. Soon we’ll have bills we’re both responsible for like the cell phone, Netflix, others.

Every day we bring more people into our circle. Your family and friends. Your brother.

We pick out curtains together, invest together, raise our credit scores together, buy life insurance to protect each other.

I miss you.

We spend more time together than ever. The visits are closer together with more and more time spent at home.

It’s never enough.

I can’t ever get enough of you. We rarely text anymore. I miss the sound of your voice. You can text me all day but nothing compares to you calling me at the end of your day, waking up to hear you tell me that you love me. (I think there’s a Sinead O’Connor song in that one.)

I struggle. I am struggling. I do struggle. I’ve been unable to write to you because I’m afraid of what I’ll say.

For now, just know that it’s been awhile and I miss you more than ever.