I remember when Holly died, and people expect a certain mourning period of you, as if one day too soon of letting out a smile or a laugh makes you not have cared nearly as much as those who are still unable to let it go. Thing is, I also remember something stupid happening at her visitation, and that a bunch of us started giggling. So, I suppose, what you could say is that emotion comes out how it comes out. You feel what you feel on a day by day basis, and you heal how you heal. Because, in the end, it doesn’t matter. I have laughed and smiled and sung along to a billion songs since Holly died in 1998, I have grown older and wiser and more beautiful, and I have made new friends and lost friends and had others pass on. But it doesn’t change the fact that she was my BFF and she died. It doesn’t mean that I don’t cry sometimes when I remember little things about her. It doesn’t mean I’ve lost a memory or a moment, it just means that I’ve lived on.
So goes the same with this love. I can’t sit around moping and crying and not taking care of myself. If I really love myself, I will continue to pick up pieces and carry on every minute of every day. I will cherish memories. I will let myself heal, and laugh, and move on. I will be mature and talk to him if he wants to talk to me, perhaps stay friends in a weird way. It doesn’t mean I love him less. It doesn’t mean I won’t always have this piece of me in love with someone who crushed my heart. It doesn’t mean that this whole thing isn’t going to make me cry or drift away to sadness from time to time. But it also wouldn’t bring him back to me if I were to act like a mopey whiney child. That’s not the way to be a strong beautiful woman, it’s not even the way to be loved.
I did nothing wrong. I’m confident in that at this point. This was all him. It was like slamming into a brick wall. It hurt. It hurts. I loved him. I love him. But I can’t make him change, or grow up, or give me what I need, or love me for that matter. I can’t force him to stay where he doesn’t want to be. I can give time. I can give space. I can be kind. For as much as this changed me, it hasn’t ruined me. A broken heart is not irreparable, it is simply in need of some tlc. It is not unforgivable if he honestly did what he thought was right at the time, it is simply in need of reflection and discussion. But I’m strong. God, look what I’ve been through. I’ll keep healing, and keep missing him, but I will not, I cannot, drown underneath a million gallons of tears until I can’t see straight. I have more dignity than that. I have more character than that. I am a whole person, whether or not he is by my side, and nothing will change that. I don’t see things that aren’t there, I do have to say that, but I can’t make someone see what they don’t want to see. I can’t force love to make itself evident if a man wants to tell me he doesn’t love me. And I can’t let myself feel like I did anything but love him. Because that’s the truth, love from me is special, my heart is special, but if he doesn’t know what he wants, I can’t let him hold it.
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