The End Part 3

These past few months I have had to train my heart to live without the person I made a home out of. See my mind understands the distance, but my heart still reaches for him. My mind still reaches for the person I thought I’d be standing right next to on the altar with. Some days, I’m ok. But most days I wake up with nostalgia tangled in my hair and there is nothing I can do but accept a road trip down memory lane. The biggest knot of change is not in trying to brush out the memories but in trying to persuade the heart to sit and stay instead of following like a stray dog. I must warn you that the most agonizing part of this learning process will introduce itself through how many times you will have to tug the leash on your heart and gently say “I’m sorry, girl – we are just not going in the same direction as him anymore.” And oh god, I know. I know how the pain irritates like a cone around your neck since this is the person you would always run to first but sometimes those who adore us grow up to prefer cats so please know that when we cross the street, it’s for the best. It’s okay to whine, it is okay. I still find myself looking back too.

Last night in Toronto, early August. He's probably sitting there right now trying to justify his actions while reading this. Trying to make it all ok in his head. Maybe even gocking at it, thinking that I'll take him back. But that isn’t the reason for this. In all of us, there is nothing more than the capacity to be a force for. Or a force against. And to wonder, how many people wake up each morning and can’t decide if they want to save the world, or destroy it. You think you’re waiting for help. For someone to tell you what the right thing to do is. Even though, at the back of your mind, you already know what it is. So, all you’re really waiting for, is a time when you’re forced to do it. Yes, I still wish I could call him. Forget about everything that he did. Phone him and tell him through all the anger of these words that I still miss him and love him. Hug him close as hard as I can. But I can’t. So, when you’re tired and weary, and your eyes heavy, I’d still give anything to be able to just pick you up and carry you home. When you’re tired of the road, my arms will be ready to carry you home. That way you can finish what you started here. Until then, this will just be another story I can’t tell anymore.

By chance that I don’t make it through tonight’s heart ache, this is how I want to be remembered. I want him to remember me curled up, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and tracing maps across his skin. Remember me laughing at his jokes, even the stupid ones. Remember me in hysterics for absolutely no reason that I’d start crying. Remember me brave, that time he held my hand and I thought I was going to die. Remember me scared and gentle and delicate and breakable - only for him though, only for him. Remember me happy, and all the ridiculous ways we had fun. Remember all the firsts and how they were so delightful we went back for seconds and thirds and fourths. Remember the songs we couldn’t stop listening to and the childish dreams we allowed ourselves to feel about the future.

If it comes to it, I don’t want anyone to remember the ending. Remember the beginning. Remember the first time you knew about me – the first time you realized that I was the girl you wanted to marry. And when I’m gone, just please remember every single opportunity you had to speak with me. And didn’t. Because you never know when I’m just a drunk driver’s stupidity, a nervous shop lifters mistake, a doctor’s best attempts or an old age away from always infinity...

-Able

Don’t be sad that I am gone. I did not go. You are holding me. I am these words and these pages. And I am holding you too. This is regions beyond now… this is always… this is infinity… this is beyond…