The Sunset Kiss

August 8, 2025

My Dearest Andrew,

I know it seems odd to send you a letter, especially with all the technology we have available, but this just felt like the best way to connect with you. Everything else feels impersonal, and we were anything but impersonal.

I miss you in way that I cannot be convey with words. There is an ache in my heart that never goes away, it lingers on and on, this deep steady pain like a constant heartbeat in an open wound. I wish I could take us back to a different time when our love was the only drumming beat that I felt.

I miss us. I miss that we were always Andrew and Abby. Like we were our own folk-rock band. Everyone would invite us to things like we were one person. Andrew and Abby are coming to the party. Now, it’s just Abby. I am a solo artist that never chose to break up the band. You did that, and there are days that I rage at you for that, but mostly I miss you. Mostly I am just sad and want us to be a duo again.

I gave you my heart and my soul. People talk about soul mates and it seem like they talk about a fantasy filled with unicorns and cotton candy clouds. No, our soul connection wasn’t like that, it was deep like the depths of an ocean so dark it has no floor. It was filled with you finishing my sentences and sometimes just a look across the room. It was two hearts beating next to each other as we just held each other in silence. It was being able to sense the person from the other side of the house, knowing what they were feeling even through the walls, just knowing the person was there steady and present. Our soul love was intertwined, vines on a wine vineyard crawling the terrace, while you drank the fine wine from its grapes on a breezy summer day. It only got better with everyday we spent together.

The time I miss the most was our last kiss. Do you remember it? It was before everything went wrong. It was a Sunday. We had gone for a walk. It was just going to be a typical walk before dinner, just to get some fresh air. We had left the cell phones at home, we were just us, together. We walked down our street and you grabbed for my hand, not in that high school boy awkward way. No, you grabbed for my hand like people did when they had been with each other forever. The way people in their 70s do, who walk down the street holding hands. I always imagined that would be us one day. An older couple walking everywhere holding hands, even as we shuffled down the carpeted nursing home hallway together. That fantasy will not come true, will it, Drew?

We had walked hand in hand out to the empty farm land, down the road. We stood in the pasture where the horses used to graze 50 years before. It was just tall unattended grass land now. But we stood under a giant tree, its foliage just cascading over us like a giant tent. The sun was setting streaking the skies with reds, yellows, and pinks. The wind picked up, a drop of rain came here and there, and I shivered a little. You said nothing, but put your arms around me instinctively. I fell into your embrace like it was a warm blanket that was always there. I looked up at you. You were always just a little bit taller than me. I saw your chin was getting a bit scruffy as the day came to rest. I touched it and giggled. You smiled, as soul mates do, there was no conversation, you brought your lips down to mine and we kissed. It wasn’t the deep hot passionate kisses that they write about in novels, although we had our fair share of those didn’t we, Babe? No, this wasn’t one of those kisses. This was the kind of kiss you have that means you are connected until after your death. It is the kind of kiss you know you will have when you are 84 years old and barely have teeth left. It is the kiss that is not just lips connecting, but two souls loving each other from their center core. It only lasted a few moments. It was a gentle touch of the lips together and then apart, but it was enough, it was always just enough.

I rested my head on your chest. I heard your heart beat steady and unwavering. We just looked out at the clouds and I sighed. This was my happiest moment on Earth. That was our last kiss, Andrew. Do you even remember it?

I am not sure why I am writing you this letter. I guess I am looking for some sort of reason. Some sort of closure even though I know I will never get it. The brain doesn’t stop looking for it though, does it? I am still in love with you. I will always love you, and I want another one of those kisses. Please come back to me so we can have that again.

Andrew, I don’t know what else to say. I wish I could see you one more time, but I know that is impossible, but I needed to tell you somehow that I still love you. I need you to know I will always be under that tree in the pasture with you.

I love you always,

Abby

Abby reread the letter over a few times. She then folded it neatly and put it in a plain white envelope. She then carefully took out her favorite pen, because of course she had a favorite pen, that’s just the way she was, and this needed her favorite pen. She watched it write his address, it glided across the paper easily as the address just flew from memory. How many times she had gone to that address to see him. She remembered the first time she had put it in her GPS, she was giddy with being able to go see him at his apartment. She had arrived in her favorite purple sweater, although she had changed her sweater four times prior, just to make sure that her favorite purple sweater was the right one.

She wouldn’t be going to that apartment anymore though. She stared at the address written in black gel pen. Black and white writing scrawled on a paper. It was so simple, yet so complicated. She sealed the envelope. She licked the backing, the foul taste of the glue shocking her senses back a little into reality. She stood in her kitchen and stared at the envelope. What was she doing? She knew she couldn’t send this. She knew she would just get it back in a few weeks, maybe a month. Return to sender would be stamped across it. It would say “forwarding address unknown.” She knew that, but she still had to write the letter. She had to do it for herself, for her heart that was shattered.

She knew if she sent the letter it would arrive at the apartment, but Andrew wouldn’t be there behind the door. He wouldn’t be the one opening the door anymore for the woman that stood there with her anxious heart beating out of her chest under her favorite purple sweater. He wouldn’t open the door anymore to the woman whose eyes were puffy from crying because her cat had just died and she needed him to hold her. No, he wouldn’t open his door to the woman in her baggy sweat pants holding movies and chocolate so he could snuggle her because she had a bad day. He wouldn’t open his door anymore to the woman who was jumping out of her skin with excitement because she just got the job she wanted. No, it wouldn’t be him. It would be some other guy, or some woman for all she knew, opening the door to that apartment. Andrew wasn’t there anymore, he never would be.

She picked up the letter. She kissed it. “I miss you so much, Drew.” She then grabbed the lighter that sat on the counter next to her. It was one of the lighters with the long necks that they used to light the grill. The last person to probably use it was Andrew. He had probably used it to grill himself a hamburger and her a veggie burger. He would always make sure he carefully scrapped all the meat droppings off her side before he had placed her veggie burger to cook. He would tease her about her meatless obsession and she would laugh, knowing he would do anything to make her happy.

She let her mind get lost in that moment. In the little things he did for her. She stared at the lighter, and watched as her fingers mechanically clicked it on. The flame burned bright, casting similar colors as the sun had done that day in the pasture, but it was different now. The colors were hotter, meaner and they danced with more aggression. She moved the flame toward the envelope. She let it simmer the edge slowly at first. Then she watched in awe as it quickly consumed all of it. The letter inside curled under the heat. It disappeared ember by ember, just as if it was magic disappearing into the unknown universe. It just didn’t exist. One moment it was there and then it was just gone into the air.

The paper melted quickly and Abby held it over the sink. She waited until the very last moment when the flames started to lick the tips of her fingers and then she dropped it. It made almost no sound as it hit the metal basin walls. She watched as the smoke rose up from the sink and just disappeared. It only took moments and it was all gone. That’s what it had been like losing Andrew. Moments and he was gone.