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Monday, October 24, 2011

Dear John,

Tomorrow has been three years since I married you. I think back to that cool October evening when we stood up before our family and close friends and recited vows we had written ourselves. Sometimes I am amazed that after all the struggles you endured because of love in the past, that you even had the capacity to love and trust again. Some people might say the same thing about me.

It's funny that you and I missed each other by minutes our entire lives. We probably stood with our toes in the sand on Mexico beach every summer of our teenage years, never looking far enough down the beach to see one another. We probably passed each other in Gwinnett Place mall, or maybe you came into the food court on your break and saw me standing at a cash register in my red and blue striped chic-fil-a polo shirt. Maybe my family passed yours in a car on Redan road around the holidays. Maybe we were on the same airplane headed to Washington DC in high school, you and Brandon, me and Brandy.

We didn't meet back then because we probably had nothing in common, other than geography.  We missed each other because God had us headed in different paths at that time. I went to Brewton Parker, came to work at Hebron, married someone else. You worked your way up to the top of your stores, became a manager, married and became a father. You and your family moved to Dahlonega. I was in Winder. I never knew about you, and yet, our lives were similar again in so many ways. You were struggling to hold your marriage together, and I was struggling to keep mine together. In 2007, we both reached the end of what we could endure. We both said "that's enough" to the drama, abuse, and the roller coaster of emotions. We were both crushed by the loss of our first marriages, and the realization that we could not save another person from their own destructive habits. We both let go, and accepted that we might never find a partner that would love and us fully.

On Christmas morning of 2007, we were both alone and didn't know the other existed. I never thought I would find you so soon but I am so glad I didn't have to wait any longer. In the beginning, I was nervous to trust again, and so were you. We both had our "baggage" and we both had our fears. I am sure it was work for you to open your life and your children's lives to me. It was work for me to open my heart and allow someone to see me for what I really was . . . broken.

 I remember how we used to stay up late on the phone talking and laughing. And I remember when we both started sharing about our pasts, and sometimes we would cry. And I remember how, not too long after we met, I knew that we were meant to be together. I knew that we would fit into place like two halves that were always made for each other. Remember how you text messaged me and told me to turn on the radio one day and the song playing said "You're my blue sky . . ." and you told me that song was for me. I really couldn't have said it better, John. You're my blue sky. You were the peaceful, calm, blue sky that was waiting behind all those clouds and the lightning. You were always there, hidden behind the struggles and facing your own heartache. And when the time was right, the clouds parted, the sun broke through, and there was the blue sky . . . waiting for me.

I know this is a personal thing to say for the entire world to read, but I love you so much. Every day that I get to spend with you is a precious gift. I am so blessed to be your wife, your partner, and your friend. Thank you for not giving up on love.

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