April 5, 2022 — April 5, 2023.
When love ends, does it ever fade? Does the yearning to recover what was lost ever dissipate? Do the tears, shed or unshed, ever dry up? Does the longing to touch ever get subsumed by new touch? Does the desire for one last kiss slip away to never return? Does the hope of getting a redo ever disperse? Does the need to share something funny ever stop? Does the heartache upon hearing a certain song ever stop aching? Do the thoughts of what might have been ever get replaced by thoughts of a new future? Does the loss of love ever get replaced by a new one?
The loss of love, like death, leaves us with what feels like unending grief and pain. In our hearts, our minds, and our spirits, the love we shared is simultaneously everlasting and yet gone. The dichotomy pulls our reality one way and then another because that reality is now never shared.
One year since my lips touched his for the last time. I wonder if he really believed it was the last time when I said I was leaving. It wasn’t like all those other times when some small voice inside said, “It’s not over… not yet.” There were no susurrations; whispers about reunion, restoration, or rebirth. Instead, I was trodding the gravelly path of true grieving with heavy steps. My trust was broken for the final time and I was left holding the pieces as he drove away after one last kiss.
So began the long, arduous process of untangling my connection to him. There were so many insidious tendrils woven into my psyche, my brain. I thanked whatever Gods may be listening that he was to be 1100 miles away and not just one town over. I had space and time to begin the rewrite. The distance was of critical importance.
I found I could live with it. I could live with the loss of my dream of a sweet home filled with music and fur babies, laughter and trust, buttermilk waffles and chicken pot pie, Minky’s Playhouse and parties, empathy, integrity, adventures, and all forms of touch, because to do otherwise, is unthinkable.
I know I can create it anew in reality because I am the mistress of my destiny. The winds of fate have lost their power to swirl me around at will. I know what I deserve and what I want.
I cannot control him. I cannot stop him from reaching out across the chasm of space and time to try to touch me. I cannot stop his words from finding me no matter how many places I block him. I can, however, control how I respond… how I feel about it. Whether or not I allow his words to impact me and how they land. I can allow myself to feel the pull and then choose otherwise. I’ve learned to love my own humanity.
Does it ever fade? I hold my answer deep within me. For him? I have some thoughts on that but the most honest answer is, I don’t know, and I kind of hope not. There is a shadow in me that hopes he remembers what he lost by the choices he made. There is a dark side to my nature that wants him to wake up one day to the realization that what I brought to our home, to our love, was irreplaceable. I know it’s petty and I know it would not change a thing. I’m a smart, sassy, wonderful woman who is also fallible. So sue me.
This subject brings to mind the lyrics from Bruce Springsteen’s song, “I’m On Fire.”
“…Hey little girl, is your daddy home?
Did he go and leave you all alone? Mhmm
I got a bad desire
Oh, oh, oh, I’m on fire
… Tell me now, baby, is he good to you?
And can he do to you the things that I do? Oh no
I can take you higher
Oh, oh, oh, I’m on fire
… Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby
Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
through the middle of my skull.
… At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet
And a freight train running through the middle of my head
Only you can cool my desire
Oh, oh, oh, I’m on fire…”
Except I would replace the word “skull” with “soul.” That’s what it felt like sometimes, two sides of the valley… everlasting and gone. There is no denying the deep, intimate, intense connection that was. It would be a disservice to do so. And though it felt like my soul had a six-inch valley cut through it, the rest of the song is his because the song is really all about him and his needs. He has a bad desire… he’s on fire… he needs to know he’s the best… his desire needs to be cooled — over and over again… endlessly.
My needs… well,… that’s why I left. It had nothing to do with love.
Simple math: the Gottman 5:1 wasn’t there.
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This post was previously published on Grace Getzen – Connection Creatrix.
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