Letters #3: The years I got

I got 15 good years with you.

And I’ve been thinking about that a lot.

Because the truth is, a lot of people don’t even get that.

Some don’t get one. Some get years that don’t even feel like years they want to remember.

But I got 15.

And they were good.

Really good.

I think about that more now.

About how lucky I was to have that kind of time with you, before anything changed, before life got complicated, before I even understood what I had.

My memories of you aren’t heavy.

They’re warm.

They’re filled with laughter, with small moments that didn’t feel important at the time, but somehow became everything later.

Sometimes I go back there in my head.

To Tabuk.

And it doesn’t feel sad.

It feels… peaceful.

Like the air is softer. Like everything is slower. Like I can breathe properly again.

Those moments, those years, they were my peak.

The best moments of my life.

Not because everything was perfect, but because you were there.

And I didn’t know what it felt like to lose you yet.

There’s something about that kind of happiness.

It’s pure.

Unaware.

Untouched by what comes later.

And I think that’s why it stays so clear in my mind.

I don’t just remember it.

I feel it.

I feel the warmth. The ease. The way everything just made sense.

And for a moment, it’s like nothing ever changed.

I used to think about what I lost.

But lately, I’ve been thinking about what I had.

15 good years.

That’s more than some people ever get.

And I’m lucky.

I really am.

Because no matter what happened after,

no one can take those years away from me.