Dearest Rachel –
In the twelve hundred plus days since your departure, I’d like to think that I’ve come to terms with my situation. You’re gone, and you aren’t coming back. Nor should I wish to drag you away from the paradise you’ve attained. Likewise, there’s no sign that Megumi is on the horizon, or even that she exists. These aren’t particularly pleasant conclusions to arrive at, but they are truths I have to accept in order to move forward, and I think I have, for the most part.
But last night, as I lay in bed, just on the verge of sleep overcoming me, I could hear the commotion of the boys in the family room, and thought for a moment that life was much as it was some four or five years ago, when it used to be you and Daniel out there, rather than Daniel and Logan. And for whatever reason, I found myself wondering (like I used to do back then) when it was that the two of you would wrap things up out there, and you would join me in the bedroom for your own night’s rest. As in those days, I assumed it wouldn’t happen until I was asleep – especially since I was almost already there – but I was wondering when it would be. And that momentary twilight thought, while at the edge of lucidity, somehow stuck with me to this moment when I woke up this morning.
Now, I know that I do certain things that, to someone else, might look like I haven’t gotten over you. I still only sleep on “my” side of the bed, for instance – even on the ship, where you never were. Then again, I could easily argue that I need to be close to one nightstand or the other – if only to have my glasses within reach – and it’s easier to just stick with the side I’m familiar with. Lying in the center of the bed just doesn’t work for that sort of thing. It’s not a case where I’m saving space for you next to me, for all that it might be nice if you were to show up.
At the same time, there are places within that same room that might suggest that I’ve finally given up, be it on you or Megumi. I’ve spread my outer clothes throughout both sides of the closet, and I’m basically using your old dressers for my socks and underwear. you think that I wasn’t expecting anyone else to occupy the space that I was taking up from now and on into the rest of my life. Granted, I could easily argue that the latter is because my dresser is starting to fall apart; I didn’t put this thing together very well back in the day, and the weight of twenty plus years of overstuffing those drawers is causing it to fall apart from the inside out.
These aren’t the thoughts that were going through my head last night; just the fact that I found myself wondering when you would wrap things up in the family room and come join me should make it obvious that I wasn’t thinking clearly at that moment. And despite that being the thought, passing through my mind as I slipped into unconsciousness, it didn’t stick around quite so firmly as to leave me wondering why you weren’t there at first light this morning. I knew better than that; I wasn’t even sad or disappointed, but just aware of my situation.  You’re gone, and it would be silly of me to expect you to be there. 
All the same, I figured I would tell you about it, much like I would tell you about a dream I might’ve had, so that you could know about the things going through my head as twilight falls. What you do with that information is up to you, but I would appreciate it if you would continue to keep your eye on me, and wish me luck.  Clearly, I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 