It is weird how life can punch you so hard in the gut one day...and then elevate you to nearly-blacking-out joy the next day.
On some page in Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "Love In The Time of Cholera", a character who's been recently widowed points out( thinks...out?) how the people whom one loves should take their things with them when they die. I agree.
But in relation to the people who...leave or whom you leave. They should go with their memories, the shared moments, the feelings...they should all be taken too.
Because it's painful. It is sheer torture to be left with mind-refreshers of what was. It is simply too tedious to remain with memories that in my case, are being pushed out of my mind with each ounce of strength and self-will that I can summon.
When the good-byes have been said, the memory slate should be wiped clean. Because memories of what used to be don't exactly bring any sort of serenity or melancholic happiness. They make you sad. And achey. Then more sad. Then, mad.
At the universe.
At your creator.
And at yourself. Those moments when you're able to detatch yourself from emotion and think/ look at the situation realistically, you get angry at yourself for...being an idiot.
Then your heart-mind combo that you just insulted re-plays a memory; one of the nice ones and you stop questioning your intelligence.
You are only human.
It is okay.
You will be fine. Really. You will.
You move through the motions. Pain. Hurt. Numbness. Questioning of your mind's working processes. You spend two days trying to not let yourself get overwhelmed by all feelings nasty and negative.
Two days of working, friend-ing, family-ing and trying to NOT feel. Then you get convinced that you might have to deal with all this chaos for a longer while. It won't go away just because you are willing it to.
So you accept. And brace yourself for all those quirky mannerisms that really translate to you dealing. Furious reading, over-working, falling in even deeper love with your music collection. And, careful avoidance of friends. You will NOT talk about this.
Over my pile of ashes ( guess where I borrowed that from?)
Then as you finally allow the mess in, it...goes. Not totally, no.
You are aware that you've lost something you really and truly valued...but you also know that it would have drained you. If you had not let it go, it would have gone from happiness-bringing, care-receiving-and-giving, mushy-turning..it would have lost its entire beauty.
And then the memories of that...those would have been dark and ugly.
Everyone deserves to be happy.
Everyone has the right to decide who brings them the most happiness and to stay with that person.
And everyone should bloody know when to walk. When to let go. Or, try to let go.
Life can be harsh. And plain mean. And confusing.
But life always lets us choose.
So I made my choice. The choice that choked me for the past two days.
A choice that took someone I had grown to care for so deeply away from me.
I let go of the one person that I currently want around the most.
Because life gave me the situation. But I made the choice.
Sometimes, the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.
Sometimes, separation brings clarity. The sort of clarity that togetherness doesn't really accord you. You look back and realize that you were playing risk games with your heart. You finally ask yourself, "Did I ever think of how this would end? Did I ever stop to ask myself if I honestly believed that maybe, just maybe, they would choose me? Really?"
I made my choice and spent close to three days bearing a great amount of pain. Then I decided to let myself face the pain, and asked God to hold me together. I was not going to break down. No.
Everyone deserves to choose whom they want to take their journey with.
And sometimes, you're the one who gets left behind. There's Meredith and Allison.
And you're one or the other.
You can't be both.
Almost three days of aching and you wake up with a song in your heart. You slept almost-quite-perfectly and you wake up minus the heaviness.
So you try to recall if you got intoxicated the night before. But you were home by 7pm.
Then you recall the prayer that was your last conscious thought before you slept off.
"Dear God, at the risk of sounding silly, I can't quite find any verse in your book that speaks to my current situation. No chapter on aching hearts and difficult goodbyes. But I know that you care. Even if I am currently furious at you. Please, please. Please, Lord, make me better. Hold me together. I miss smiling. I need the joy that surpasses and brings all understanding.
Please, God. Please. Hold me. Moe."
Also, there was the IM from your very wise friend that said something about God having a better and higher plan.
You tell your heart that's leaping to every dance-y song to cool it, too much of something can osso be bad. Be-gone, euphoria.
You calm down and tell yourself you'll face the day, second by second.
And you do. A few pangs. Several reminders. Way too much missing-ness. But way less aching.
And that's a good start.
Or, a good third day.
For Maux.
Because she smiled today. A lot.
