Lately, the phone calls I’ve been having with my significant other have been getting shorter and shorter.
I wish I had an answer as to why. But I can literally go back and track the times. From 39 minutes to 14 minutes to 12 minutes to 10 minutes to 2 minutes.
I’m not sure it necessarily means anything, as sometimes we have long conversations, and sometimes we don’t. But it definitely doesn’t feel like they are filled with substance.
Is this the end?
Not sure. Maybe.
I wish I could just know.
Is there a magic 8-ball that you can ask that question to? Even if the answer came up, “All signs point to yes,” at least I’d know.
I was doing some work on the computer that involved going through my photos and cleaning them up, organizing, picking out the perfect photo for the project at hand.
It’s no surprise, to those who have been reading this blog, that I recently ended a five-year relationship. As I combed through each of those photos, a question dawned me.
Somewhat tongue-in-cheekily, the way people used to handle breakups would be to burn pictures with their exes, or cut their faces out, or to even pin them on a voodoo doll and perhaps poke pins into their private parts (A-plus for alliteration!). Now, with the digital age, it’s simply as easy as hitting the DELETE button, and poof, voila, presto-chango, the picture is gone. The memory is erased. It seems like an easy enough solution.
Still, the question begs to be asked…what do you do with those photos? They’re my memories too. And if I suddenly remove the photos from vacations, from holidays, from family gatherings that the two of us were in, that’s also part of my past I’m erasing. Do I simply deny that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (no…not Voldemort) was part of my life? Do I archive them away somewhere, safe on a CD, so that if i should choose to look at them again, then I’m able? Print them out, put them in an album, and never look at them again, except when I’m old and gray, or at my funeral service, when they’re hauling my rotting corpse up to the front of the church, and showing off all my pictures above me, as my family weeks inconsolably into their Dollar Store handkerchiefs? (Seriously…quality over quantity, guys)
It’s a tough call. Though, not really. I mean, I don’t deny that the relationship happened. The end of it was sudden yes. And I hate that, but I don’t deny the fact that we were together for five times.
Maybe the pictures will serve as a reminder of happier days. Though, I’ll admit, whenever I came across his face, i got a little overwhelmed. But let’s be honest — McDonald’s commercials make me cry. But I digress.
The point is, this is a process, a continual evolving existence I’m in, where every day, every time I see something that reminds me of him makes me long for those moments of togetherness.
I don’t want to deny it. To deny it would be to deny who I am as a person, and the experiences that have shaped me, helped mold me. If anything, I want to embrace them.
Maybe I’m not quite ready to embrace them fully, but in time. When seeing his face, seeing his smile, seeing the moments in time captured forever in pixels won’t bring sadness to my heart, but wistfulness.
Every day gets easier. And every day, I let go a little bit more. And finally, when I’ve let it all go — the resentment, the anger, the hurt, the betrayal, the sadness — I’ll be glad I kept those pictures.
This post has turned into a sad tale, so I think I’ll end it by linking to some random things on YouTube. For your viewing pleasure:
All right, so those of you who have read my blog postings (and I think there are five of you who might have) know that recently things have been somewhat depressing and sad.
I am going to write about positive things moving forward, but am allowed to finish with this one. I reserve the right. It’s my blog, dammit.
After five years, this relationship is over.
I can’t begin to understand why, though I have racked my brain trying to understand what exactly happened. Perhaps writing about it will help me have some clarity. And if not, it will be cathartic.
I thought we were happy, and thought I was doing everything that was important in a relationship and communicating. Five years of our lives meshed, a world created so that we could be together, and move forward.
But now, that’s all over. One day, it was over.
I was there to support, and be there through thick and thin. I was there to comfort him, to protect him, to keep him out of harm’s way, and to go to bat for him over and over again.
But it wasn’t good enough.
And now, as he says goodbye, he is ready to move on, to completely erase me from his memory, from his life, from his history.
I will cry a few more nights, and I will remain confused. Hurt and angry. But I feel that I’m getting over it and will be better for it in time.
So…on to happier things. :-).
It’s the end and my heart is heavy. After a week of keeping it in, I finally had one of those cries that was so gut wrenching there wasn’t any sound. Just pure tears and pain.
It gets easier every day…though there are some thoughts about the future I’m thinking and will share in a later post….
For now I just keep putting one foot in front of the other…..