Our Story...

It started back in late June of 2010, at least the romance. I realized that my feelings for Sean were something more than just a deep friendship. I began to imagine what he would say if I told him. I hoped he would say he felt the same way but I was unsure. So I just occupied my mind with thoughts of holding his hand and just feeling him next to me. 

He had been my best friend through all of high school, so it was not a weird thing for us to be close to each other. He would give me hugs goodbye, back massages, pop my fingers or toes, and attempt doing my hair. It was never romantic. But in my mind, I wished it was. 

Later in the summer, the hugs got longer. Sometimes his hands would linger on my back. And he would rub my feet or hands after popping the joints. Little signs of tenderness that made it impossible not to imagine that is was more. 

Our last hug goodbye before I left for college lasted a long time. Neither one of us wanted to let go. And we just didn’t. When we began to depart one of us would pull back in: time and time again until one time we stopped and leaned our foreheads against each other. My heart had never beaten that fast in my life. He whispered that he didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want me to leave. I whispered back that I loved him. (Something we had been saying awhile. It didn’t have the romantic meaning, but more of friendship.) Again we pulled each other close. That hug, that moment, I replayed over and over and over again in my mind that next month apart. I couldn’t help but wish that it could have been more. That it was more. We talked every day: texting, calling, skyping, emailing, and letters. Anyway we could, we did it. 

Before I had left to school, I wrote a letter to him, explaining all my feeling. How could I not? I had never kept a secret from him our entire friendship, including the times when I had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend. But I instructed him not to open it right away. I would tell him when. So he waited. And I pondered the timing. I was afraid: afraid he would say that he didn’t know what I was talking about. That our conversations would become awkward and I would lose him. After all, we were 3,000 miles apart. Or worse, he would say he felt the same way, but it could never amount to anything because of the distance and his mission. But one night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted him. I wanted him to know. I couldn’t keep it inside me anymore. He read the letter and mailed me a letter. That was the longest week of my life-waiting for that letter. But it brought every piece of joy I could have hoped for. He loved me like that and even though nothing might change because of the distance, he didn’t care. He wanted to be with me as badly as I wanted him. And so it began. I wouldn’t get to physically touch him for four more months. But I could wait. It would be worth it. And it was. 

When he came to the airport, my mother was late. I don’t think that would have ever been such a blessing in any other circumstance, but that day, I was blessed. We embraced and didn’t let go. There was no awkward how-should-we-do-this stage. We just fit together. He wrapped his arm around me and we sat and talked and talked and talked. Eating breakfast with my mom was torture. I just wanted Sean to grab me, pull me into an alley, and kiss me. But we didn’t even as much as hold hands in my mom’s presence yet. She didn’t know about this new development. But I became obsessed with it. I wanted him near me all the time. The distance between us felt so much further now than ever. I would come up with excuses to get us alone just so he would put his hand on my back, squeeze my hand real fast, or brush my face. The second night I was home, we went to the movies. Perfect, dark, and away from my family, he just reached over and grabbed my hand. I couldn’t have imagined a better feeling. He wasn’t going to leave. I could feel that in his hands. He wanted to be there with me. He wanted to be connected to me. He took pleasure in me and he took pride in the fact that I was his. He wanted everyone to know and see. We held hands whenever we could. We couldn’t get enough of each other. 

One day, he grabbed my hand when we thought my mom wasn’t looking. After that, we didn’t hide the hand holding. In fact, we didn’t hide our feelings anymore. She knew. We all knew. We were best friends completely in love with each other and could not be happier about it. I would lay my head on him and feel his heartbeat. He rubbed my back still and I would rub his. We played with each other’s hair. It all came so naturally, yet, my stomach could hardly handle the butterflies. There was something different about his skin touching mine now. It took my breath away. 

The first time he kissed me, I almost cried. It was just on my cheek. But it was the sweetest kiss I have ever received. His lips stayed on my skin and the second they were gone, I wanted them again. And I got them. He kissed my forehead, nose, chin, and the other cheek; but not my lips. He got tantalizingly close. But never did it. Not then. Of course now the day-dreams were more than just holding his hands in mine. They were more. I had never enjoyed kissing before. But now, I couldn’t wait. But I would. I knew it would be special with him and I felt so grateful for just the feeling of being with him with-out the kissing that it was okay. He would just pull me close to snuggle with him and I was complete. 

Those two weeks of Christmas break went by faster than ever. Soon I was back, 3,000 miles away from the one person who made me laugh whenever I was determined to cry. I had dreams of his smell, his laugh, his smile. But mostly, I had dreams of his hands, chest, and lips. I wanted so badly to be close to him again. April felt eternities away. It was physically painful. 

He surprised me and came to visit in February. I couldn’t stop myself from running to him and throwing my arms around him. I wouldn’t let go, afraid that it was a dream and suddenly he would disappear. I begged him not to sleep so I could stay with him longer. And he begged me to come back with him. He never let go either. But too soon again, our time was over. What kind of torture was that? 

For Christmas he had made a blanket and gave it to me. I slept with it every night. And for some reason, I feel closer to him when I do. 

He came to visit again during spring break, during his birthday. We spent lots of time with his older siblings, but he didn’t feel any embarrassment in showing affection towards me. He held my hand, played with my hair, pulled me closer to him when I was too far, rubbed my back, sat on my lap, shared his food with me, played footsies, patted my legs, pulled my legs onto his, and gave reassuring squeezes. He tried to hide when he kissed me, but soon enough he just did it without hiding. He would just kiss me on my hands out of the blue, sending my heart into frenzy. The butterflies never ceased to fly. At midnight, the night before his birthday, he pulled me close to whisper in my ear he loved me and kissed me…on my cheek: then the other cheek, my forehead, nose, chin. Finishing on my lips. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think of anything except I wanted him closer. I needed him to help me breathe again. But when he lifted his head from mine, we smiled, and kissed again. Breathing was hard. My heart could hardly handle it. But I loved that feeling, like I was struggling. My legs felt weak. I felt like I could fall right into his arms; I knew he would catch me, hold me. Just the sweetest kiss in the universe. It lasted forever but ended so soon. We both couldn’t stop smiling. He drove me home. We kissed again. Embraced and kissed again. 

The next days we stole kisses like our lives depended on it. When he had to leave, I could hardly believe I had lasted so long without him. I couldn’t understand how I would do that again. When he let go of my hand, I literally felt a piece of me rip away. The air was knocked out of me, not like when we had kissed. This was pain. It killed me and could hardly stand. I shrunk to the floor and immediately tears fell. I wanted to scream it hurt so badly. I wanted him back that moment. I spent the next few hours crying, holding blankets imagining they were him, staring at his pictures, listening to old voice messages just to hear his voice, wishing he was coming back. I fought back tears but every couple of hours they would fall again. I felt empty and missing. Hugs from other friends just didn’t feel the same or offer the same comfort. I received a text message from him and my heart hurt. The words “I miss you and I love you” bounced around on my screen. The next week was filled with moments I wished he could be there for. Places we had been together, the spot that I died a little when he said goodbye. I was a ghost and it killed me, and it killed him. He came down again, a birthday present, and we both were ecstatic. 

When he arrived it was even better then I imagined. Nobody could make me laugh like him. I didn’t trust anyone like I do him. And no one can make me feel the way he makes me feel. The second time he left was worse than the first. My friends tried to help. But all I wanted was to sleep so I could dream he was there. We skyped till we both fell asleep so I would wake up to him in the morning. There were times were I would try to reach for him through the computer screen and then tear up from frustration that we were apart so often for so long. It was torture. 

Coming back from school he was there, again, at the airport. I cried when I saw him. I wanted nothing more than to never leave his side again. I begged him to stay with me. He begged me to run away with him. Every moment we spent together was magic. I feel whole and complete with him by my side. 

--This is taken from a journal entry two weeks before he went into the MTC. Some parts have been taken out and the beginning of our story is not really included. This is what I remember. The summer before he lefts runs around in my head till I fall asleep at night. Our entire beginning is complicated, but sweet. We were best friends through thick and thin. Just two best friends who fell madly in love.