My foolish heart thought that any fond memory of DSB and I together had been decimated by the worst, most awful last six months of our relationship. I was wrong. I found “Coffee Mornings” today when I was inexplicably browsing through the “random post” feature. I guess I just wanted to torture myself a little.
I can step back from my anger and resentment and all the negative feelings now, and realize, that sometimes we really had something, or at least thought we did. We had our moments in time that were truly special and beautiful. At some point, we loved each other like crazy. There were times when the world was right and the air was cool and we couldn’t get enough of each other.
I’ve denied all that the past several days since we have broken up, but it’s true. Sometimes there was pure magic. Of course it wasn’t perfect, but in the first year and a half, we had some truly amazing and loving times. It’s a lot easier to break up and condemn a relationship as being totally bad. Nothing is ever totally bad, there is always some good.
Which is why now this is so hard. Which is why I am trying to allow my heart to grieve for what could-have-been. I have been going on and on about how relieved I am, and don’t get me wrong, I really am, but now there is this heavy sense of loss. The loss of a person that never let me know him well. The loss of a person that swore he loved me, no matter what. Just because it wasn’t like that at the end, doesn’t mean it wasn’t EVER like that.
I think it’s easy to focus on the negatives, because then you don’t have to deal with the truly painful shit. Dealing with the good memories and reconciling them with the fact that there will be no more good memories, or any memories, is devastating. It really wasn’t all bad. No matter how much I have made it out to be, there were many good times.
There was a time when I believed him when he would oh-so-occasionally tell me he loved me. There was a time when he would go out of his way to make me believe it. There was a time (long ago) that he would hug me or kiss me or tell me “I love you” spontaneously. There was a time when he would share himself with me, share himself with the people I care about most, show that he did care. It didn’t happen often, and not recently, but it did happen, way back at the beginning.
I’ve only cried three times (counting today) about DSB and I breaking up. The first night he was gone, when I was writing a blog post about our breakup, and now. I don’t think that’s probably enough tears, but I have a feeling there will be more to come.
What I would really like is for this blog post to stand alone as a brief nod of the head toward DSB, my acknowledgement that there were good times, and my permission to myself to just completely let go of all of it.