This Too Shall Pass

One year ago I was happy. We had just come from a hilarious, yet terrible, breakfast at Harvey's. A year ago the memories of Valentine's Day in Ottawa were still fresh in my head. How we skated the entire Rideau together (almost holding hands the entire way), how we signed our names on the same line in an art gallery guestbook, how he managed to wear my tiny socks on the ride home (he once wrote that he was looking for some girl's socks to keep his feet warm and I'll always wonder if he ever thought about that as he was wearing mine).

A year ago I was remembering how we had just spent a day with his younger sister and two little cousins at the museum and at the skating rink, and the entire time I felt like we were one big family. I looked over at him in the car while he was driving, I watched him play with the kids and laughed when he couldn't figure out how to put their snowpants on. I watched him from behind as he held their hands while crossing the street and I thought to myself, I could live like this. With you and our kids and we'd be happy. We'd take them to the museum becuase we'd want them to appreciate culture and we'd get McDonald's for dinner because they want it and you would too. I want to belong here, with your family, with you.

Six months ago we left for our 2nd Annual Togetherness Time Before School Trip (I made up that cheesy name and I don't think he ever adopted it) and we sat in Greyhounds for seventeen hour trips to and from the US; he put up with my late-night crankiness and I put up with his snoring. I usually ate alone, roamed Louisville by myself and knew that he was having a really good time with all his academic people. I watched him, swelling with pride, as he gave his first presentation at an international conference. Chicago was fun, but we didn't like the city too much so we'd take time off and spent a day just at the hotel, in the pool, in bed, in each others' arms.

A month ago, I asked if he wanted out of this relationship and he said Yes. The fighting hadn't stopped and it was probably For The Best. But despite all that, everything I said that night was choked through sobs; I didn't want to lose him, was afraid of losing him, even though I had already.

A week ago I decided that calling him to see how he was doing and sending him jpegs of Darth Vader and Jesus were almost pointless efforts. Nothing good came of them, nothing came of them at all. Except for funny blog entries (and what came from those blog entries was an angry e-mail from his friend yelling at me for being "manipulative" with my posts - which offended me, but I'll get into that later - so I told her to stop reading).

One day ago, Chris said to me, "Hey, I've noticed that the last couple posts on your blog aren't so sad anymore! Way to go." So perhaps after reading this he'll be disappointed, but the thing is, I'm okay. Sure, I get weepy when I think about the happy past and I will admit that I cried a bit when I was writing about the socks and the kids and the wanting to have a family with him, but I'm relatively okay. Not quite 'good' yet, but I'll get there. The uncertainty is dying down, and even if it wasn't, it doesn't bother me anymore. He left me a while ago and he's not coming back. And I think that's okay.

January 27th, 3:04am
I love you Jason.
*click*
11:19 pm