ph: plakka
I wrote this nearly two years ago, the void is still there.
Nothing in life is certain, people, places and occurrences come and go. Nothing in this world is permanent. Life is a fleeting moment that reforms in each new passing instant. And while nothing is permanent, we are still effected and moved in unexpected ways. People that you never expected to hold significance in your life, become the ones hardest to forget. They stroll into your life as insignificant as single leaf is to a tree. And in a season or two, they fall, and their loss strikes a surprising pain.
Naked is the only way to describe how the loss of something so presumably insignificant makes you feel. You find that the smallest things throw you into memories that now seem so bittersweet and haunting. Every memory glorified to be almost unworldly perfect, but when you strain hard enough the flawed details surface, and realize your perceived reality is skewed. I can only equate this phenomenon to that of when someone dies. Suddenly their memory is perfect, every flaw vanishes. It’s not that they were perfect in reality, but rather from some reason we torture ourselves by believing their memory is flawless, making their severance nearly impossible and painstakingly difficult.
This same situation holds true when you must muster an agonizing goodbye to someone close who moves to a different country, state, or even city. Their tie becomes almost impossible to cut as you trick yourself into believing every moment with them was much more magical than in reality it was. Their loss strikes a plaguing fear; the fear of forgetting them, and the fear of never finding someone to fill the empty void they left. While your common sense tells you that your void is not permanent, for nothing is, you heart is heavy with the notion that you emptiness is impermeable. It is simply easier to tend to the haunting memories of a past lover than to lend your fractured being someone who could easily, “kick you while you’re down,” so to speak. But what is even more difficult than saying a goodbye is to see the world in someone who sees nothing, to value their life above your own when they value their own at less than the worth of a single penny. To hear the words, “I want to die,” from someone so close feels like a knife plunging right the bottom of your soul. It obliterates every last bit of you, leaving you entirely hallow. Hopelessly all you can do is wish and pray that they find all the things that you have found in them. Hope that they discover why you fell in love with them, why you felt they were worth tearing down your fear of vulnerability for. To deal with a goodbye is hard enough, but deal with the idea that the person you feel so deeply for is suicidal is beyond what any words can describe. And then to be constantly bombarded with the question of how do you feel about so and so leaving is beyond difficult. You want to scream everything that you are feeling. You want to break down and cry and tell them how you are riddled with fear, confusion, and pain, but that’s not what people really want to hear. So you do what is easiest for them and for you and you say that you couldn’t care less, even though it is the furthest thing from the truth.
I know that time heals all. I know eventually people will stop asking, and it will get easier. While a big part of me wishes I could forget everything, an even bigger part of me has believe that everything has purpose. While the purpose may not be clear now, I have hope that someday it will be. That is the beauty of fate. I have hope that things will get better not just on my end, but on his as well. Severance is never easy, goodbyes are never perfect, and I’m finally at peace with that. So goodbye and take care, may you find joy in all that you do. I only have the best of wishes for you.
CJA
