I started writing today’s post while on a plane from DC to Denver this past weekend. I’ve had a lot more time to think about today’s topic, so I made some tweaks to the original. So here goes.
Nobody likes to say good-bye. I think it’s a common human reaction, laced with all kinds of emotions. I’d like to think that as we age, saying goodbye gets easier. But, not so much. And I honestly can’t say whether I think it gets harder or easier. Perhaps it’s just harder with some people than with others.
On my flights I had plenty of time to think about having to say good bye to DC, new friends, new experiences, the less stressed-life I lead while not having to be supermom… and most of all… Edward. I’m sometimes amazed my head can contain everything I have inside without bursting apart. I must be made of something super strong. Or maybe it’s just held together with Gorilla Glue, I’m not sure.
For 10 weeks, I was able to step out of my life and essentially live a different one. And it was great. I’m not going to lie, I missed my kids, although not as much as I had anticipated- I was too busy. And I hope this same lack of missing them will apply to Edward. At first, I thought it just might, but as the days pass, I’m learning not so much. I know the kids will always be there, I’ll always go back to them.
Over the short time span of 10 weeks, I learned so much about myself. Having time away from the kids gave me the chance to really take an in-depth inventory of what makes me tick, what I need, and things I need to deal with. I never have the luxury of spending time dwelling on those things when I’m caring for kids, attending classes, and a whole bunch of other things. Many times, too, it takes the right person at the right time to point things out to us that we’ve either been oblivious to or trying to ignore. If that person is truly a good friend, they won’t hold back but let you know what they see in you- good and bad. It’s almost like stepping outside yourself, and seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes.
Edward was that person for me. He was not only my man for the bulk of my summer, but he was my best friend. He wasn’t afraid to tell me what he saw, good and bad, and it helped me in so many ways. He did so with kindness and respect, with caring and compassion. While I am really hard on myself, I never came away from one of our talks feeling the crushing defeat and worthlessness I did after my ex had his say. It’s one of those things where I really don’t think I could sufficiently express how much everything Edward did for me meant, how much he changed my life- for the better. I wish there was some way to really write it on his heart, so he could take it with him and never forget all the goodness he possesses.
Edward, this is for you.
As I watched you walk away, towards your gate, your walk etched itself firmly in my mind. As did our parting kiss. Your strong arms around me. Your final touches. I don’t want to forget the way you looked into my eyes that last time. I saw my pain etched there, and the desire to not have to say goodbye. My heart agreed with you when you said you wish this didn’t have to end. But, like I said, I respect your decision. Watching you walk away, faceless people ebbing and flowing around you, until I couldn’t see you anymore, brought a pain to my heart and a deep sigh to my lips, one felt through my entire being. Watching you walk away was one of the hardest things I did all summer. I found some comfort in knowing I will see you in a couple of weeks, but after that, I know the reality of seeing you again is slim. And I hurt.
Since that day, what I was hoping would happen, hasn’t. While I still feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for everything I experienced this summer, and while I feel completely different than I usually do when a relationship is ending, the ache is there again. As the days slip by, and the inevitable end approaches, I dread it more. I feel more sad. It’s always been hard for me to let go. While I’m not so overcome with grief that I can’t function or see the good in everything we experienced, as in past relationships, the ache is always there.
The only analogy I could think of is when a loved one is dying from old age or a long illness and they are ready to go to the other side, but keep hanging on because you won’t let them go. And that’s how I feel right now. I know you want me to let you go, Edward. I don’t want to hold you back. The problem is, the only way I know how to do that is to throw those walls back up, taller and stronger than ever. That means not talking to you. That means potentially losing a dear friend because I don’t know any other way to let you go than to push you away, become mad at you for no apparent reason, something to make me let you go. I wish I had some kind of special knife that could cut the attachment between my heart and yours. At least the romantic lines. Those are tightly woven, hundreds of experiences, events, and feelings make it strong and sure. It’s not going to be easy.
However, if I’ve learned anything from you this summer, it’s that I am strong and confident. And if I put my mind to something, I can do it. I am determined to do things differently this time. I don’t want to lose your friendship because I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go in the romantic sense. I want our friendship kind of love to continue to grow stronger as the days, weeks, months, and years pass. We’ve done an outstanding job of communicating with each other, of trying to overcome our tendencies to put up our walls and push people away so we- or they- don’t get hurt. I promise to keep trying to not shut you out, if you promise to do the same. While I know things have to be different now, and I know things will never be the same, even though we do want to stay in touch, I also know I don’t want to lose you from my life completely. And I’m trying to do the best I can, even though I don’t always know how.
I love you.
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