After 15 unsuccessful surgeries, Boston Marathon bombing survivor Rebekah DiMartino has to have her left leg amputated. To deal with her devastating loss, she wrote a break-up letter to her leg.
We admire the way she tackled her loss with courage and humor. While nothing we’re facing is remotely as tough as her loss, her example motivated us to write Break-Up Letters to things that we are losing.
Dear Man Card,
I wish I could have done this in person, but we both know you are already gone. However, I thought it best to write you and let you know that we are officially finished. I will no longer try to engage in conversation about sports in the office with the hopes that you might notice and come running back to me with all the speed and agility of the Seahawk’s Adrian Peterson. I’m sorry, I had to give it one last try but alas you, Man Card, and I are never meant to be.
I am sorry I made you watch Project Runway and bedazzled you after watching TLC’s Craft Wars marathon. I am sorry I ruined the Super Bowl. I tried to be interested in the game but it’s not my fault, those commercial were just so funny.
So I release you to find the grease-laden pocket of a man with an F-150, who can bench more than his own weight and who can grow facial hair on command. I am sure you will be happier there.
It might not seem like you had any effect on me, but I know I am a better man because of you, Man Card, and the time we spent together albeit brief.
They warned me we’d have to part ways. I always knew in my heart the day would come, but I didn’t think I’d have to say goodbye this soon. Remember all the great times we had together? Double cheeseburgers. Queso. And then together, we’d just dream the pounds away.
But you’ve become so distant lately. And I’m realizing it’s time to say goodbye. But don’t worry about me. I’ll learn to work hard. I’ll learn to choose salad over french fries. I guess, I just really need to work on myself right now.
And even though I hate to see you go, I’ll be the bigger person in this. Literally.
I don’t know what makes you think it’s ok for you to abandon me. Maybe you’re emboldened by your friend leaving Wally. But did I torture you the way Wally did his hair? Have you been featured on Awkward Family Photos?
But truth be told, I was never that in to you. I don’t miss the perpetual Denice the Menace spike I wore as a trophy of shame every day of junior high. I don’t miss the bed head that no amount of my sister’s hair spray could control.
So you know what? You can’t quit me, I quit you. Pass the clippers.
Write your own letter to something you’re losing, and post it in the comments.