The letter you always wanted to write
By Anonymous for The Guardian, Saturday 20 July 2013
Dear F, for some reason I feel the need to write. I’m sorry, as I’m sure we’re all getting along nicely with our lives and probably don’t want to be dredging this up again but I have this nagging desire for closure â€“ a word I’ve always hated. I know now that it’s a load of crap and life isn’t a series of neatly packaged parcels, but I can’t get rid of this feeling that I need to say my part.
We’d been friends, the four of us, for a long time. Time, and life’s challenges, brought us closer together and we ended up spending all our time together. We were godparents to your children, we spent holidays together. Through our years of IVF and miscarriage, we turned to you, our dear friends, to support us and carry us through.
Gradually, I felt J retreating into himself, needing space from me and our life, which had become sad and hopeless. He turned to you for support; you gladly counselled him and, for a while, I was just relieved he had someone to talk to. I trusted you completely. Then, slowly, the atmosphere changed when we were together. I noticed you taking more care of your appearance, a flirtiness in your behaviour, an attempt to block me out and spend time alone.
I dismissed my feelings as paranoia as I trusted you both. He was a mess, taking medication as well as months off work and spending more and more time with you and your children.
After a while I moved out. I continued to spend time with you, for support, friendship and news, as he was blocking out me and his family and you were my only link to him. I still dismissed the doubts I had as pointless, petty jealousy.
Then he admitted it, that he was falling in love with you and that you wanted to be with him, and my world fell apart. On his part, he was a broken man, believing himself to be in love with the person who was giving him the love and the children that I was unable to and which he so desperately craved.
He hit rock bottom but, amazingly, after a little while longer he realised that what he was feeling wasn’t real and we gradually rebuilt our life and our marriage, despite your efforts to prevent us.
Two years on, we are still childless but happy and satisfied with our life together. I resisted contacting you; J was fragile and I wanted to protect him, but I was also frightened of what would happen if I let you into our lives any more.
As much as I want to forgive and forget, it has just not been possible. Every day, J has to face what he did and the impact it had on us and, rightly or wrongly, I blame you.
Your apology via text was laughable and your attempts to justify and excuse your behaviour were irrelevant. You made choices that you knew would devastate and betray the people you loved. I hope you can live with that.