I wrote this
nearly two years ago, the void is still there.
Nothing in life
is certain, people, places and occurrences come and go. Nothing in this world
is permanent. Life is a fleeting moment that reforms in each new passing
instant. And while nothing is permanent, we are still affected and moved in
unexpected ways. People that you never expected to hold significance in your
life, become the ones hardest to forget. They stroll into your life as
insignificant as single leaf is to a tree. And in a season or two, they fall,
and their loss strikes a surprising pain.
Naked is the only
way to describe how the loss of something so presumably insignificant makes you
feel. You find that the smallest things throw you into memories that now seem
so bittersweet and haunting. Every memory glorified to be almost unworldly
perfect, but when you strain hard enough the flawed details surface, and
realize your perceived reality is skewed. I can only equate this phenomenon to
that of when someone dies. Suddenly their memory is perfect, every flaw
vanishes. It’s not that they were perfect in reality, but rather from some
reason we torture ourselves by believing their memory is flawless, making their
severance nearly impossible and painstakingly difficult.
This same situation
holds true when you must muster an agonizing goodbye to someone close who moves
to a different country, state, or even city. Their tie becomes almost
impossible to cut as you trick yourself into believing every moment with them
was much more magical than in reality it was. Their loss strikes a plaguing
fear; the fear of forgetting them, and the fear of never finding someone to
fill the empty void they left. While your common sense tells you that your void
is not permanent, for nothing is, you heart is heavy with the notion that you
emptiness is impermeable. It is simply easier to tend to the haunting memories
of a past lover than to lend your fractured being someone who could easily,
“kick you while you’re down,” so to speak. But what is even more difficult than
saying a goodbye is to see the world in someone who sees nothing, to value
their life above your own when they value their own at less than the worth of a
single penny. To hear the words, “I want to die,” from someone so close feels
like a knife plunging right the bottom of your soul. It obliterates every last
bit of you, leaving you entirely hallow. Hopelessly all you can do is wish and
pray that they find all the things that you have found in them. Hope that they
discover why you fell in love with them, why you felt they were worth tearing
down your fear of vulnerability for. To deal with a goodbye is hard enough, but
deal with the idea that the person you feel so deeply for is suicidal is beyond
what any words can describe. And then to be constantly bombarded with the
question of how do you feel about so and so leaving is beyond difficult. You
want to scream everything that you are feeling. You want to break down and cry
and tell them how you are riddled with fear, confusion, and pain, but that’s
not what people really want to hear. So you do what is easiest for them and for
you and you say that you couldn’t care less, even though it is the furthest
thing from the truth.
I know that time
heals all. I know eventually people will stop asking, and it will get easier.
While a big part of me wishes I could forget everything, an even bigger part of
me has believe that everything has purpose. While the purpose may not be clear
now, I have hope that someday it will be. That is the beauty of fate. I have
hope that things will get better not just on my end, but on her as well.
Severance is never easy, goodbyes are never perfect, and I’m finally at peace
with that. So goodbye and take care, may you find joy in all that you do. I
only have the best of wishes for you.