Today, I closed a chapter of my life that I had been fighting to keep open for the past several months.
I crossed a line in two different friendships. This story involves three people, unrequited love, and a two-year mess. It’s all very complicated, detailed, and does not belong on a public blog. And it is for these reasons that I shall divulge no further.
Foolishly, I had been convincing myself that everyone could be friends, and live their respective lives as though nothing had happened. This worked, for a while. And then, steadily over time, reality violently and swiftly boiled to the surface.
Pretending works for only so long.
I haven’t been very thankful lately, and this is due at least in part to my vanity concerning the attempted repair of these friendships. My refusal to face facts and move on.
For the longest time, I believed that through perseverance and patience, all things can be fixed. “Far more difficult,” I convinced myself, to make amends, when in reality clinging to what was was the easier option.
So, after much thought, I wrote a very long letter addressing the issues, and sent it to all who were involved. No word of mouth, or speculation, but rather public declaration.
As I sent it off, I sat at my laptop, closed the lid, and sat silently. I exhaled one very prolonged breath. It went,
I closed my eyes, and after another prolonged pause, inhaled. It went,
It felt like dying and being born again. Like breathing for the first time.
I remember that when my mother passed away, my father wouldn’t let me attend the funeral. At the time, he thought it best for me to sit out because the pain may have been too great. Which, he did in a loving and well-intentioned manner.
That Christmas, however, and the next following months were hell. I never got to say goodbye. I felt cheated.
For years, I never saw my mother’s gravestone. In time, I grew to dread doing so. I found comfort in the idea that maybe, just maybe, I could return and find that a mistake had been made; that she was alive and about somewhere.
Finally, I pushed those feelings aside and went to visit the site. I prepared myself and fully expected sadness. However, when I finally arrived to the marker, I came across something that I did not expect to find:
I smiled, tears gently stroking my my nose. And in that moment, I felt this enormous peace come over me.
That day, I expected grief. But that was not what I had found. I had found closure. Beauty. A release.
Today is like that day; today is a day of closure. Today is horrifying. Today is exciting. Today is painful. Today is healing.
Today is the funeral. Tomorrow is the first day. Tomorrow is eternity.
And I think, for this, that I can finally be thankful again. That I can move on and begin a fresh new chapter in my life.