Promise

Today was a bit of a roller coaster for me emotionally. No practice this morning, so that may in part explain it. Last day of tryouts for my son, that may be part of it too. When I got home from dropping him off, I argued with my daughter a bit and decided I needed to have a seat on my meditation cushion and see what showed up.

I know the point of meditation is not to think, but thoughts come: that's what they do. And the thought that came as I sat down was of the day five years ago that my first love and I got to revisit the summer camp where we met. It was such an incredible day, and when he and I were chatting this week over Whatsapp, we both recalled how perfectly delightful that day was for both of us.

And then I tried to let go of that thought. And then I succeeded. Sort of. Because the one that came next came not with a peaceful feeling, but with a flood of tears: I found myself trying to think of a day like that with the New Englander that would let me touch the goodness without all the sadness, but it wasn't possible. I thought of the first full day we spent together, and all I could do was cry. Although it was a beautiful day, that's not what I feel when I recall it; I just feel sadness and loss.

I'm at the point now with myself that I no longer wish to be feeling differently than I am. So I let myself feel sad, and afterward, as I went about my day, I felt less grumpy.

Later in the day, riding home on the beautiful path along the lake, my thoughts turned to the tears shed earlier in the day and why it still feels so sad. I think it's something about the promise I felt on that day and on so many days with him. It's hard when something promising slips through your hands. Really fucking hard.

Facebook didn't help by providing me with a flashback to the photo taken on this day last year, when the kids and I were camping with the New Englander in Maine at Acadia. That's probably another reason the sadness is more prominent today.

When I got home, I decided to watch a movie on Netflix. Without too much searching, I found If I Stay, which I hadn't seen when it was in the theaters but was curious about it.

Wouldn't you know it? This movie opened up still more grief about the promise of my last love, in the form of this aptly titled song:

And meet me there, bundles of flowers,
We wait through the hours of cold
Winter shall howl at the walls,
Tearing down doors of time.

Shelter as we go...

And promise me this:
You’ll wait for me only,
Scared of the lonely arms.

Surface, far below these words

And maybe, just maybe I’ll come home

Who am I, darling to you?
Who am I?
Gonna tell you stories of mine
Who am I?

Who am I, darling for you?
Who am I?
Gonna be a burden in time, lonely
Who am I, to you?

Who am I, darling for you?
Who am I?
Going to be a burden

Who am I, darling to you?
Who am I?

And in this line:

You're supposed to break up with somebody because you're not in love with him not because you're completely in love with him.

I wasn't 18 (like the character in the movie), but I found myself puzzled by this in my breakup too.

I don't get it. I may never get it. And I don't know how long it will take to get over it. How many more days, weeks, months or years will it be before the main thing I feel when I remember my time with the New Englander is something other than a feeling of grief and loss? I don't know.

But I know that the time will come, and I know that in the meantime, I'm fully capable of being and feeling where I am and what I feel today...