Then, Later, Now — In Memory of Peter Marvit

10687171_762323090500720_1952268976426644298_nThen,

You wrote me love notes

In your purple scrawl

That only I could read.

Your words so well-crafted,

So witty,

And sincere.

Then,

You gave me the book, The Giving Tree.

And inside the front cover you wrote,

“I hope to be your giving tree.”

A wish so vulnerable,

And loving.

Then,

You told me I was beautiful,

That my face was like the moon,

Despite my sense that I was just fat

And unattractive.

You never cared about my weight

Or my hairstyle,

Or what shoes I wore.

Always thought I was beautiful

That was one of your gifts to me.

Then,

At the birth of our daughter

You quoted someone saying that

“My heart grew an extra chamber”

And that you wished you had thought of it first.

But the sentiment remained.

Then,

We divorced.

Ties were cut.

We all suffered.

Then,

We rewove our lives together.

Tied knots.

Remembered our love for each other

Remembered that we are family

That we are best friends,

Confidants, parents, cheerleaders,

Unapologetically in each other’s lives.

Later,

You were shot.

Dead.

On September 17, 2012.

Now,

I look at your picture

A relic of stopped time.

You never wanted to get older anyway.

Never wanted another year to pass.

Never wanted to acknowledge

That I was almost a year younger.

In fact, you always celebrated the two weeks

In September

When we were the same age.

Insisting

That I had “caught up.”

Now,

I am older

and grow older still

forever

without you.

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