All That’s Left Behind
All I have left is what she left behind. A picture of us hangs over the empty side of the bed. A pink razor abandoned in the shower. The t-shirt she loved to borrow. A coffee mug. A memory. A longing. A void.
The void is the one thing I haven’t embraced. The one thing that brings no comfort. The one thing I haven’t been able to accept. How could something that was so rich and full be replaced with nothing. Like the peaceful rhythm of our relationship there was no drama in the ending. No explosive parting. There was no final exclamation. Not even a simple period. More of an ellipse that suggests a story left unresolved. Like an artsy film that fades to black with more questions than you’d like. You are left to fill in the blanks. Fill in the void. But I haven’t filled in the void. I don’t know how.
Maybe I just chose not to. Accepting the void and the finality of the separation is unbearable. To think that things will never return to what they were is heart breaking. Better to hold on to what’s left behind. Cling to those memories. Keep the void at bay.
To this day there is an enduring love shared between us, but we had to acknowledge that sometimes love is not enough. She was always practical, one of the many reasons I love her, and she knew there was no way she could stay with the restlessness still inside her. This restlessness that had troubled her for years and helped drive her from an unhappy marriage. The restlessness that continued to haunt her. The time we shared may have been a salve to her wounded heart. A way to erase the bitterness and appreciate what pure love could be without manipulation. But there were still questions left unanswered, questions that I’ll never fully reconcile. Mainly the ‘why’. Was there an aspect of that restlessness at play? Was it the simple desire to isolate and quiet her mind? Was the sadness driving her to solitude so it would not seep beyond her walls? Was it never having the chance to go it alone, and conquer the world on her own terms, make a life that is truly her own design? We had tossed around each of these ideas over the final months together. Each element played its part, but I’m not sure which was the driving force this time. Perhaps it’s not for me to know. In the end it doesn’t really matter, only that love wasn’t enough to keep her here with me. The only expression of love left for me was in letting her go.
In theory. To a degree.
The struggle remains to let her go completely. Emotionally. Being unable to take a decisive leap I find myself straddling the fence in a most awkward position. I’m able to put on the brave face. I can be supportive. I do want her to find her happiness. But I can’t break character and tell her how much I love her and how much I want her back. It is a no-win situation. If she fails to thrive or decides to come back with anything less than success it will haunt her forever. She will never be completely happy. If she thrives and stays, she has the chance to become the independent soul she’s dreamed of. And I will be happy for her success. Proud that she made it on her own terms. And ultimately broken hearted that she’ll never return.
I never tried to contain her. I didn’t mean to alter the path she was on, but when circumstances changed, I was excited to share a home with her, and loved having her near me. In hindsight maybe I should have recognized her hesitation to move in. I think she wanted to try and make it work. Wanted to pretend that given the right partner a traditional relationship might quiet the restlessness. Maybe the illusion of the perfect life that she struggled to maintain in the past could become a reality when put in a new light. But over time it only confirmed that a white picket fence in the suburbs was never going to make her happy, on the contrary it actively made her miserable. Part of me had hoped that it might change with time. I hoped that by working through the scars of her past she would come to terms with the person she had become. And appreciate the loving couple we had become together. I had hoped it would all be enough.
It was not.
she will finally be able to take a deep breath, inhaling peaceful prospects and exhaling the past she left behind
When originally faced with this awful reality I took comfort in knowing she’d at least be nearby. She’d get a better job here in town and find a small place of her own, but we’d still make the best of a new situation. Separate but together. Here is California though, there were no jobs to found, at least no jobs she could be proud to proclaim at a party. And even given a job at minimum wage there were no places to call home that didn’t require bars on the windows, soundproof headsets or generally lower standards. But Utah was different. Utah held promise. Jobs were more plentiful. She got more callbacks than rejections on just her first round of applications for jobs she actually wanted. Cost of living was lower. She had family throughout the area for support. It was such as simple solution to all the barriers she was facing here. She’d be crazy not to go. And I’d be wrong to try and stop her.
For her, the path ahead is just starting to take shape. She has the chance to build herself up, make her own way and rock out in her own apartment with no one to answer to. I hope this is where she will find her happiness. That she will finally be able to take a deep breath, inhaling peaceful prospects and exhaling the past she left behind.
And I am part of that past she leaves behind. Maybe some day our paths will cross again with both of us in a better place to carry on together. Maybe our paths diverge and we each find happiness apart, in a different way then what we shared together. Even the idea of that, despite the suggestion of happiness, still makes my stomach twist with sadness. The idea that I will just be a happy memory she’s left behind. That the time we had together and the love we enjoyed will be reduced to a picture in a frame, a coffee mug and a borrowed t-shirt.
I only hope she remembers me with as much love as I feel for her. The love we shared should be the standard we both look to maintain in the future. A deep love without conflict, filled with passion and warmth. I hope we find that, together or apart. That hope, that silent prayer in my heart is all that’s left for me to hold. All that’s left behind.
FIN.
