I'm sorry that I haven't written to you in a long time. I keep wanting to write you a letter but time gets the best of me and I either end up forgetting, or I'm just not able to. I felt like I have to write to you right now. It's almost 1 a.m. but you're with me now, and I have to share.
I'm in a hotel room in Sacramento on a four day conference for work. For some reason the hotel reminds me of the hotel room where we first met in Dublin. They layout of the room isn't necessarily the same, but there's something about the look and feel of the room that brought me back to that say when we first met. I close my eyes and I remember feelings that I had being with you. I ask myself "what would Luke be doing right now?" You would probably be outside close by somewhere smoking and observing people and/or that atmosphere.
My memory and dreams are full of you. I wake up and you aren't there. Everything I want and hope to be true is nothing more than dreams of the impossible. At the end of the day a feeling is only a feeling and reality says you still aren't here. Is that all I have left of you? A feeling. There is so much to our story that is not finished Luke. An infinite amount of possibility for us is now a shelved unfinished book with empty, unwritten chapters. Nothing is left except the hopes and the dreams of what could have, or what may have been.
I miss you Luke. Even alone on this hotel room I have faith in your presence. I may not see you but I know you're here. I love you. Please come see me in my dreams.
Love,
Sergio
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