This was the second day of my life without Sam by my side. I was aching for him every minute. But I kept praying, please make me stronger; he does not want to be with me anymore; please help me get on with my life.
That is what Sam had said to me the last time we spoke. He said he was not sure he was doing the right thing (I think he meant, doing the right thing by breaking up). He told me not to wait, to do what I have to do, to “go on with your life.” He added, “If I come back and the door is still open to me, then we know it was meant to be.”
If the door is still open. If the door is closed. If a crack of hope, like light, seeps through the door at night because I could not close the door completely. If, if, if.
I do not know if I am ready to close the door. Friends will most likely say, move on, forget him, forget this. But if they were here, where I am, they would be looking at the door with a blank expression wondering, what do I do next?
I could close the door. And not lock it. That would be OK; I could come back and open the door if I wanted.
Or, I could keep the door wide open, like our parents did when we played outside. Ever watchful, through an open door. If I leave the door open, there will surely be moments where our flesh will touch again, where we are close enough, just close enough, him on one side, me on the other, to feel each other again.
I could leave the door cracked, just a bit. Not wanting to see his every move, his next relationship, his next love. But still hoping he will decide to come back through and be with me, here, on this side of the door.
What should I do with the door?
And then, what should I do with my life? Move on without him? That is what he has told me to do. I do not think I am ready. Like a child learning to walk, am I ready to let go of the thing that keeps me balanced and keeps me from falling? Can I really let go of that? Am I capable of letting him go like this?
I don’t even know where to go. I can’t make a decision like that right now. “Go on with your life…” How? Where? How does someone do that? A word, a door, a statement does not have the power to end love so abruptly that such a decision can be made right on the spot. Isn’t there some weaning period allowed? A letting go little by little, day by day, minute by minute? Do I have to decide to go on with my life right now?
I can’t just do that right now, this second. As if closing the door would take away all the pain and what love was still here with me. All closing the door would do would be to separate us from one another. It does not stop my loving him or missing him, or longing for him.
I simply cannot shut the door. I cannot just yet “go on with my life.” I cannot shut off all the love I have carried for this person, put it away, lock it up, and forget it happened.
I am still lingering at the door, holding on for dear life, because the truth is, I have not yet learned how to walk on my own again.
