Sunday, February 5, 2017

On saying goodbye when you're not ready

It's always been a fear of mine, the running out of time. The lost chance at the perfect goodbye.
This is a story about how I had to get good with saying goodbye without getting to say goodbye.

It was a whirlwind love affair, as they always are. The kind that hits you out of no where when you least expect it. For me, he was right on time. You came into my life exactly when I was ready for a man like you. You took my hand and immediately recognized the hard work it takes to build callouses on the pads of one's hands. We laughed and bonded over being "bros". We shared a sub par caesar salad loaded with black pepper and laughed about picking out the croutons, because we don't eat "that shit."

You saved me that night. In more ways than I realized at the time. You saved me from myself. You took my hand and led me down some creepy ass dark alley ways but I wasn't afraid. Not even for a second. I knew, you were going to be something grand.

It was late August, the tail end of the most interesting summer of my life. I was in a good place. A strong and centered head space. I knew full well what this meant for me, and excited about the journey. I was ready for you!

We spent every single day together. I didn't understand how that would become my greatest weakness. It's been so long since I've found a deep enough connection that never seemed to get old day in and day out. Even when I was with you, I wanted more.

The thing is, we've gotten to the point that the pain is more satisfying than the happiness we bring each other. That's an unhealthy relationship in and of itself. Not to mention all the other bullshit issues we shed light on. It's because we care about each other so deeply that the idea of growing old together scares the living shit out of us both. Except, I can see it for what it is. It's not fear of growing old in my case. It's fear of growing apart.

We created rifts just to see if we can patch it up. We put ourselves through impossible circumstances just to see if we can make it through. I've always believed that love is simple. And what we were doing was the simplest thing I've ever had the pleasure of doing.

Tonight was too much for me though. All the empty threats about walking away, don't scare me. Tonight, I hit a breaking point when you decided that it was ok to laugh at me and rub it in my face that Lawrence had divorced me. That is unforgivable and there are many things that I could and did turn the other cheek to. But Lawrence... that is untouchable and you poked and prodded like it was just another thing to be dissected and judged for.

Saying goodbye to you was not easy. Especially because I didn't actually get to say goodbye. But that's life for you. It just hits you out of no where and you gotta get good with it. Life will go on- as it always does. Until the day it just doesn't anymore. And at that point, I mean really, it is what it is.

If I had the opportunity to tell you goodbye, I believe it would go a little something like this:

"You are a good person. A strong man who has a kind soul. I wish I was enough for you, I wish you were strong enough for me. We tried, we succeeded, yet there is just something much greater than the two of us, that is at work here. I will hold on to our good times, and be grateful for the not so good. Both will eventually fade and I'm ok with that. I've learned more about myself while we were together than I have in the five years past. Thank you for attempting to love me. Thank you for allowing me to love you. I hope you find peace. I hope you remember that you're worth it. You deserve happiness in whatever form you can accept. I love you and I wish you all the best."

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