I am about 80% okay, about 90% of the time these days. Some time has passed--albeit just a few weeks--but even so, with each day that passes, hindsight gives me more and more clarity and further justifies that the decision I made was the correct one.
Major deal-breaker aside, if we were still together, he still wouldn't have time for me. There would always be complications and lifestyle choices that didn't mesh. The thing is, even though logically I know this, I feel as though I was robbed of discovering it organically and determining whether or not there was enough love there to power through the little things.
I never got the chance to see what it would be like for him to go climb a mountain while I went out for cocktails with the girls, then meet back up and discuss our respective adventures while snuggling. I never got the opportunity to figure out what annoyed me about him, or what little idiosyncrasies he had that would eventually drive me crazy. We never got to have our first fight about something stupid that we would laugh about later on.
I've heard it said that things don't have to last forever to be perfect, and I believe it. We had a perfect few months. The problem is because they were so perfect, it makes it that much harder let go--to not continuously wonder how much more amazing it could have become.
Then there are days like today... I got up early to go to the farmer's market. The last time I went to this particular market was over a month ago, and it was with him and his kids. It occurred to me that I might run into him there, so of course I slapped on some makeup and made it a point to wear actual clothing instead of my pajamas even though I am positive the universe will not allow me to see him unless I am completely unprepared and looking like something my cat barfed up. And although I did not see him there, by the time I'd bought my basil, peaches and gladiolas, I was practically in tears. It's astounding how many memories you can make with someone in such a short time.
The remainder of the morning was an emotional war zone... a song on the radio that reminded me of him...(bwooosh!!!)...there's that restaurant we went to on our second date...(blammmm!!)... a commercial for the State Fair that we'd talked about taking the kids to...(kabamm!!!) By the time I got home from my hour-long outing, I was so mentally exhausted, I could barely stand up.
I know it's not really him that I miss at this point, especially considering I'm not entirely certain I really knew who he was. More so, it's the future he allowed me to so carefully map out in my silly, girl-brain. When the life you thought you were going to have is unceremoniously torn from your grasp, it's difficult to return to the life you were previously living. Difficult, but not impossible, thankfully.
I'm thinking one of these days, my sadness might very well morph into raw, untamed anger, at which point I can start mentally planning the future I will share with my lesbian cell-mate in a nice minimum-security prison facility in the desert.
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