Set them free.

setthemfree1Today, I’m dealing with a different kind of grief.  One that I didn’t think I would ever experience again.  My boyfriend of over four years and I broke up.  And when I say that we broke up – I mean that he broke up with me.  I thought that he was my forever.  If I’m honest with myself, I still do.  I think he’ll come to his senses and realize that his reasons for choosing this don’t really make sense…that he’s rationalizing this all wrong…that he’s not doing me any favors…that this isn’t better for me.  This is not what I want.  I want to fight for what we have.  Desperately.

I wish he did, too.

When I thought of the idea for the image above, I googled the quote.  It tore at my already aching heart, because I only remembered the first sentence.  Not the rest.

“If you love someone, set them free.  If they come back, they’re yours.  If they don’t, they never were.” – Richard Bach

I don’t know that I fully believe that quote.  Doesn’t stop it from hurting, though.

I do want to believe he’ll come back, but there was so much finality to what he said and the way he said it…how long do I hold on to my hope?

My answer is: As long as I want.  It’s not that I’m waiting for him necessarily.  I’m also, and more importantly, waiting for me.  Giving me however much time I need.  I lost my person today.  And as silly as it is, I added to a list of things that I love about him.  I started it a while ago – thought I’d give the list to him some time.  Tonight, I added to it, almost frantically – like I was going to forget all of these small details, all of these pieces that make him up.  I don’t want to forget.  (Although, I will probably spend innumerable hours entertaining the idea by watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind again and again.)

One of the things on that list is that my sister loved him.  This is no small thing.  That girl hated most of my friends.  HATED.  Could not stand the majority of people whose company I chose.  But she loved him.  One time, when we visited her in the hospital, she introduced him to the doctor by saying: “This is my future husband, if those two don’t work out.”

What. A. Punk.  Trying to steal my boyfriend.

Gawd, I miss her.

Gawd, I miss him.

It feels more than a little unfair that my sister is gone – I am pretty sure that under “sister” in the dictionary it states that one of her obligations is to help in times of broken heartedness.

I do realize that I’m trying to make this post “light” and “airy”…because I am trying not to feel what I’m feeling.  Trying to distract myself from having to deal.  (Can we say denial?)

Oh, Richard Bach, your quote tells nothing of the trials of waiting.  Of the in-between…of haagen daz and sad movies.  Of heartache and tears.  Of shouldas and wouldas.

Of loving and missing.