Today it was a moment of undistracted silence sitting on the porch of my house. The thought hit me, "I shouldn't be here right now, I should be in Canada meeting his family like we planned ... Why was I sitting alone on the porch when I should have boarded a plane today?" So many questions swirl around my brain -- and my heart and mind remembers: I'm sitting on the porch because he broke up with me. The man that I would have said "yes" to, broke up with me just 18 days ago. And so I sit on the porch and cry silent tears that fall down my face and hit my legs with a splash. I look to the sky and hope to hear something or feel something that will bring me comfort in this sad moment.
I guess that's one of the risky parts of relationships isn't it? You keep sharing, giving and building something with your guy, hoping it'll work, believing it'll work, seeing it work ... letting them have parts of your heart and falling for them. But then, out of no where he tells me he isn't feeling the same thing and he wants out. He is done. And I have no choice but to let him walk away, to let him go.
18 days ago my mind tried to wrap itself around the thought that it actually happened, that he actually said those words ... and then my heart began to break. Heartbreak is so painful and yet there is no amount of medicine that can fix it. It's a dull ache all the time and then at the most random times it's an overwhelming sadness where tears seem to never stop. It's the feeling of being so alone even when you're surrounded by people. It's feeling lost and having no words to speak and then being so mad that I just want to punch something.
Through sniffles I ask God all my questions while sitting alone on the porch. Most, if not all my questions started with "why...?!" I have so many questions, hurts, feelings ... and yet they remain unanswered. They probably will remain unanswered because he walked away from me and put a sad ending to our story.
Even though I didn't get a response back from above, I know Jesus heard me and there is a comfort in that. So ... I sit on the porch looking around telling myself that I'm here and not there meeting his family like we had planned ... and yet again, another moment hits me where I realize that I have to keep letting him go. To grief the memories and plans and to keep letting it go, releasing it like a ballon into the sky. Letting it drift up, up, and away, out of sight and hopefully one day, out of mind, allowing my heart to heal and risk again.
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