Reading Old Love Letters Healed My Heartbreak
The ambivalent relationship we harbor between ourselves and our old flames
Our attic holds a peach memory box inside a Rubbermaid container. Inside the box are old letters and photographs. Some of the letters are love letters from Gabe — my first love. The first man I opened my heart to. The one I didn’t marry.
Do you also harbor a box like this, tucked away somewhere in the recesses of your home — and your heart?
Gabe was in the United States Air Force. We met through my roommate, when he was on leave. She and Gabe were friends so he came back to our apartment after his welcome home party. I was enamored with him all night.
Eventually, I coaxed him to my bedroom where I lost my virginity without telling him. He had no idea. I had condoms by the bed. He assumed I did this a lot. I was twenty.
Killing Me Softly by Roberta Flack was playing on my stereo.
The engagement
On one of his leaves, in a parking lot, Gabe tells me I have childbearing hips. 20-years old and 118 pounds I am quick to perceive the comment as an insult. And, then I realize, he’s thinking about us having children.
His travels, on active duty assignment in the Air Force, make Gabe worldly. We listen to French music, smoke cigarettes, and drink cocktails in his parent’s backyard. He tells me that the woman he marries will need to convert to Catholicism.
Excited, I start to see the future unfolding before me. Scared, I start to feel the future closing in on me. I’m twenty. I take another drag of my cigarette, a sip of my drink, and kiss him on the cheek.
When you were twenty, did you long for a stable married life with a family of your own? I didn’t realize how much growing up I had ahead of me. Part of me felt ambivalent. This was my first serious relationship. How could I be sure he was the one?
One evening, Gabe and I are on a date at a bar, and Brandi You’re a Fine Girl starts playing on the jukebox as we perch on barstools.
We are hit with nostalgia for the future.
Gabe meets my eyes and asks if I will marry him.
I take a breath before answering: yes.
Unwilling to settle down, unready for the future
We were in love with the idea of being in love. I wondered when Gabe would give me an engagement ring.
But, a ring never came.
Gabe’s failure to follow through made space for my doubts to drift to the surface.
Despite the feeling of wanting a husband and children, I was only twenty years old. So young. It felt overwhelming to agree to a lifelong commitment.
And, something didn’t feel right. I wanted this to work but my intuition said it was a bad idea.
I didn’t believe Gabe truly was going to marry me. I felt that he was all talk, no substance. It was hard having a long-distance relationship. I broke it off. And, I think I broke his heart.
Am I worthy of love?
When I was twenty, I was incredibly vulnerable and I didn’t want to share that with anyone. I held my true feelings close and avoided revealing my authentic self. I was afraid — if I shared who I was would I be rejected? That would be heartbreaking.
Do you feel you are worthy of love? Something about myself at that young age made me feel inadequate, unable to accept someone else’s love as genuine love. In rereading the old letters, I realized we hadn’t allowed each other to get to know one another. I think we both knew that if we did that, it would soon be over. Our worldviews were very different and unbending.
But I had internalized there was something at fault — something not worthy — in me. It followed me as I pursued a love life after Gabe. I dated men who didn’t treat me very well. And, then I met my now-husband. We had an electric attraction, an infatuation, and intense emotions. My now-husband’s dad died unexpectedly the year we met and I was (and am) a person who thrives on processing emotional journeys.
With my husband, somehow the pieces fit together. Our similarities and differences made each of us better.
Courage
I didn’t know writing this would take so much courage. My loving husband is cooking me a gluten-free pizza and I’m looking at old love letters. He doesn’t know what I am doing. I feel guilty.
It’s only possible for me to look at little bits and pieces. Gabe and I were different, in that I am an intuitive thinker and he’s a logical thinker. The same dynamic goes for my husband and me.
And, then my husband walks into the bedroom and looks over my shoulder. He asks what I’m looking at and I tell him. He’s a little put-off, but respectful.
I have just made a discovery. Gabe was slick; he was a smooth talker. And, he was a conservative.
My husband is not slick. He doesn’t use flowery language to tell me how much he loves me. At first, this bothered me. But he shows me his love. And, with him, I feel worthy of love.
Putting together the pieces
Today, I looked through the letters and let myself remember.
After dating, Gabe and I remained friends for a while. He wrote to me and said he was dreaming about me, that he followed his intuition when he decided to love me.
He smoked and drank.
I thought he needed the idea of me to get him through his time in service.
In one of his letters, after our breakup, Gabe professed an always love for me, the kind of love that exists in parallel universes. Did this scare me away? Why don’t I remember when we quit talking to each other?
I can’t really claim to know how you feel about anything. I don’t know what your favorite song is, what makes you so interested in Art, who you’re going to vote for, or what your dreams and goals are. I think that might be the saddest goddamn thing in the world. — Gabe
Sometimes, throughout my years with my now-husband (we’ll celebrate eighteen years married in October) I’ve felt guilty for harboring these letters.
When my husband and I moved in together, a couple of years after I dated Gabe, I opened the mailbox to see a forwarded letter. It was from Gabe. He wanted to find me and catch up. I told my husband this and he asked me not to respond. So, I didn’t. I’d be lying if I told you I’m not curious about what Gabe is up to today. But, I understand and respect my husband’s request.
Still, I’m glad I kept those letters.
Resolution
I no longer feel guilty. I admit I am happy I have this nostalgia, these memories. My husband knows. He sees. It’s a little awkward and we move on.
I’ve never been ambivalent about my husband. We are fiery, passionate, opinionated, artistic. Although he doesn’t believe in past lives, I’m sure we’ve lived them before. I’m sure we’re soulmates. And, I feel similarly about Gabe. But, this particular lifetime was not for us.
My husband and I have seen each other at our worst. We’ve seen each other at our best. We tell each other the truth even when it’s hard. And, we work our way through it — together.
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