The past can't hurt us anymore

I think it's childish to say that it is the truth. I dealt with this issue a part of my life. Running away from my past, walking away from all those little pieces of darkness surrounding my life. The more I kept telling myself that the past is the past, the more it found a way of digging itself out.

I lied to myself thinking that it doesn't affect who I was or who I wanted to be. Lies. They're being lies. The past is who I am in the present. But this doesn't really matter when you think about it. It's who you want to be, what choices you want to make that really matters and affects you.

I don't believe in good and wrong. Silver lining is what keeps the world going around. At least that is what I want to convince myself.

How I feel about destiny? I wish I could say I believe in it, I wish I could say I don't. I guess a part of me is delusional and thinks destiny reigns our lives. The other part would think that destiny is weak and plays a role only if you let it.

I am nothing special. I haven't cured the starvation, I haven't even tried. I haven't written Gone with the wind, haven't painted Mona Lisa, haven't sung Elvis' "Always on my mind". When I'll be long gone of that planet, my name will be forgotten and will just be one in a million graved on a stone in a cemetery. I will just be a number amongst others.

You may think of me as the pessimistic one. And maybe you are right. But I'd remember being realistic. I have lived my life without a code. I had fears and doubts. I had joy and tears. I smiled, I cried.

Reflecting on your life. I wish I had known to do that before. Thinking of your choices and analyzing them. Contemplating your mistakes and learn from them.

I remember being a kid, growing up and aging. In a lifetime I've learned one true thing. Life is life. As simple as it sounds, it just is. No matter how you want to portray it, examine it or write it, life will still be life. And death will still be death. No matter how nicely you say it, how lovely you want to make it sound, it will still remain the greatest mystery.

Mystery's a part of the charm. It is intriguing, it is puzzling, it is mesmerizing. The human heart is the biggest secret ever made. It is strong and it is weak at the same time. Yet it is the most talked about.

There are books, movies, songs, essays, classes about love. I remember reading that quote in what seems another life about it.

Love. Not just this feeling many people think they're having inside of their mind. Now I'm talking about an independent being that you feel you are. Being in love, being loved. I don't know if I've ever gone to feel that way. But that's not the point. That will never be the point. The only thought of the possibility keeps me from surrendering. Love is tragic. You just have to look around you. The greatest authors wrote the greatest novel with tragic love. But having that faith, knowing that you're meant for something, that you're meant for someone, is just the simplest thing, but the strongest strength.

I remember smirking while reading it, I still have that smile now that I read it again. How naïve of me thinking that was true, you will say. And you have the right to mock. I was naïve then, and I am naïve now. I may have lost my innocence long ago, but I still have that pureness of thinking.

I have been deceived more than once. I have been hurt and broken more than I can reckon. And yet I still believe in brightness. Have I ever loved? I wish I could answer you simply. I wish I could tell you how it feels and explain it to you. But that would ridiculously waste your time. If you ever want to know about love, don't read it, don't write it, don't even listen to it. Just live it. That would be the only advice I could give you. Live love. And remember to live it fully, inconsiderately, completely.

Love is nothing if you don't share it. Share it with your family, your friends, your cats and dogs. Don't let yourself survive in a world where money and fame is what you cherish the most. I spent a long time praying I could make my life more exciting, less boring, praying I could make it great. I would have killed to realize how foolish I was being back then and how I was wasting precious moments I could have spent on some things more meaningful. I was always reaching for something more. I was uncommonly tired of being fine. But I know now that I was being real. Fine is real.

So many thoughts and realizations I wish I would have had sooner. When I was crying for scratching my knee for the first time at 8 months old, when I was grinning for my first present at 2, when I was laughing for my first prank at 6, when I was sighing for my first course of Spanish at 13, when I was bawling for my first heartache at 16, when I was writing letter for my first and only lover.

My life wouldn't have been greater or even better if I had those realizations sooner. I just would have known that I was living Life.

You may think that letter is full of regrets, maybe even of bitterness. But I like to think this is nothing of that. I like to think of it as my goodnight to life.

My life ended with his. My life ended when he has been taken away from me those two undying months ago. I shall not say how it happened. And honestly, I don't think it really matters. I've spent the last 7 and a half weeks trying to find answers, those last 58 sleepless nights trying to put words on how I feel. 1392 hours of missing his voice, missing his touch and kisses, missing the look he had when he told me he loved me, missing the shivers he had when I was kissing his eyelid to wake him up every day we lived together, missing his warmth next to me every night we shared, missing his scent when I was snuggling him during every movie we watched.

I will always remember him, I will see him in our son's dreamy blue eyes, I will see him in our daughter's smile, I will see him in my tears. His voice may soon outshine, his scent fade away, and his image stand aside, he will always be with me. He's in every dawn, in every breeze, in every sunset, in every star.

I'm sitting here on the couch we bought, the couch on where our little Holden were conceived, remembering all the time we spent just being together. Surprisingly I haven't first thought about those wild nights at Vegas, or about our wedding and honeymoon, or even about our first times – first nicknames, first hand holding, first nose grazing, first stroke. No, I first thought about that stormy night where he taught me how to feel complete. The outside was raging, my heart was pounding as our clothes were lessening. His capturing eyes just looked into mine and I felt his mouth lingering where my heart is. That was the moment when he grazed into my soul and let himself inside of me for the rest of my life. A moment I still think of dearly today.

For what seems the longest time, I have let myself wandering in a world where I would still have your hand in my hair, where I would still have your warm breath on me when we embrace our bodies in that rare passion, where I would still hear you groan in the morning. I knew how all those simplest things made me feel. And I am not worried about forgetting any of that. It is anchored in who I am and in how I feel. You made the person I am today. The widow who still loves her husband, the mother who still kisses her children goodnight, the woman who still believes in love.

I know my life ended when you faded away. But somehow, life kept going on for me. It kept going on for Holden and Rosalind. The afternoon your soul has walked away from ours, I promised myself I will not let our brood as clueless as I was until I met you, even until today. Though you are not there to show them, they will know you love them, no matter where you are, no matter where you are not. They will know I have loved their father until today and always. They will live love as how you have taught me just by stroking my eyebrows or blowing on my neck. They will live love as I can make them feel for both of us.

I just realized that once again I have been talking as if you were here. From "him", I've slowly passed to "you" when I refer to my husband. Who knew I, Brooke Davis, would have gotten married in the first place. I still can see myself read the letter you left after sneaking into my room when I was in the shower. I remember seeing the black ink you used to write the words that I have learnt by heart.

When you'll feel yourself sink into the darkness of the uncertainty, just remember how I feel about you and let it convince you that I will always be with you.

You always had a way with words. And more significantly, you always had a way with me. Good or bad thing, I still don't know, but I always smile at the thought.

Sometimes I catch myself wandering on the beach, stopping at the swings you've claimed as ours the first time we stayed swaying while watching the sun rising after escaping from a tremendously boring party of your brother. And you quoted that writer: The blue sky can fall down on us, the earth can collapse under our feet, the sea can drown the world, no matter what, I will keep how you make me feel with me.

As the memories of our life together flow back to me, I can't help but wipe away the tears that keep coming. I blame myself for feeling that way because I know you wouldn't want me to cry over the elation of the things we've done. And this is normally when either Holden or Rosalind come into the room, sit with me and try to keep the promise they made to you. They are amazing. I love them more than Shakespeare or Hemingway could have ever written or described. Look what you have done to me, I am now talking about writers. And as weird as it sounds, this is probably why I love you so much. I love you for helping me to grow as the person I have become, I love you for the things I do, I love you for the way you still make me feel and I love you for the things you taught me.

I love you, Lucas.

Who knew 5 letters would have been what made my world a brighter place to live. Who knew 5 letters would have been what completed me. Who knew.