I long for the day you see the light and our love for one another.
I long for the man I remember who loved me every single day of our marriage, my best friend.
I long for that day you will realize you have everything a man could dream of — a loving wife and a family that will crawl to the ends of the earth for you.
I long for your conversation and silly jokes.
I long for the day we can share Sunday breakfast together as a family of five.
I long for the day we will sit and enjoy a glass of wine and cheese together or a special Friday night gourmet dinner.
I long for the day the hate will disappear from your soul.
I long for the day that you realize we have only been fighting for two weeks.
I long for the day you realize the impact a broken family has on our children before it’s too late.
I long for the day you realize your mind is playing horrible tricks on you. I long for that day to come before it is too late.
I long for that day . . .
Perhaps it was an act of closure. An act of trying to make sense of this nightmare. An act of desperation to reach the Jay I remembered. All I knew was in my writing, my heart seemed to ache a little less than the night before. I was still trying to reach the man who had written me love letters and sweet cards year after year, professed his love, and had given his heart and soul to me. There was no such man left.
Instead, a monster appeared before me. A monster who sneered at his wife’s sweet letters and retaliated with nastygrams instead. The “pal” I’d come to know and love was long gone.
A disease that we buried for decades had finally reared its ugly head, bipolar disorder.
My manuscript is ready for publication.
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