Thursday, December 18, 2014
The Beginning, Middle and Possibly the End of Missing Someone
I remember reading "The End of Missing Someone" online, maybe it was pinterest. It was heart-achingly accurate. But I wondered what about the beginning of missing someone or the dirty prism puddle middle, or the near end when you're so over it but a text, a call or a message sends you over, over, over the edge.
You left in September and I thought I beat the system. I was angry and a little sad for a day but I felt strong. You were gone and that was okay. You were there, I am here. Life goes on. I started driving to my favorite seaside towns to take pictures. Pictures of tree lined avenues, of independent bookstores, of yellow paths. I loved September drenched in fresh Autumn. I instagrammed pumpkins in the 1977 filter. I'll be honest, I took a couple of selfies but tried my hardest to make it look like someone took them, that I was with someone else. But it was just me and my camera and a cup of coffee. I found company in books and coffee and pictures and driving. I was fine, I was working on my photography I said. I noticed I hadn't seen many of my friends and my life without you left gaps of alone time I tried to fill with creativity.
December has a way of reminding us everything that has transpired. I can say 2014 was a good year with some heavy things but I always feel nostalgic. My anger toward you was like carrying around duffle bags through all of Chicago O'Hare every single day. I couldn't do it anymore. I had to let the past go. The things you did. The things I did. I had to be at peace with breakfast alone and driving alone. I only drink on Fridays and feel healthier. I came to the point where I didn't miss you on my trips to different towns or eating a new bagel. I thought, I bet he'd like this. If you and I couldn't be happy then why couldn't you be happy with someone else? Because there was a time you made me happy. You did. We had our time in the sun; under the cherry blossoms; running down yellow and red autumn roads and in blizzards furiously scraping your car in the morning so we could get bagels and coffee. We had our bagels and our inside jokes and our schemes for businesses and the name of our future daughter picked out. We had our time and it had come and gone. And I was okay with it. I was okay with how much I had loved you, I wish I could've loved you better and you could've too, but those were things we had to learn. So we could keep loving, keep moving, keep living.