I heard from my brother every few days.  Each time he had found out something new.  She hadn’t stopped talking to the guy and it was more than just talking.  Then it wasn’t just the guy from the gym.  There were others. Then it included her boss who she saved in her phone under another name. Then he learned that it was likely happening their entire relationship.  If they hadn’t recently married and moved in together, he may have never known.

His mood was different each time I heard from him too.  He was either super stressed having found out something else or super hopeful that they were finally on the same page and could start fresh. 

It’s a brutal situation. Enough to drive you mad. Loving someone so much and knowing that they love you too, but if they loved you, how could they hurt you so badly?  How could they be so selfish and so careless?  How can they live with themselves?  How could they be around the children and participate in normal every day activities knowing what they’re doing in the shadows?  Are they really telling the truth this time?  Are they really going to change?  Why didn’t anyone tell me?? What am I doing wrong???  The questions are endless…

Even though the same theme ran through my relationship, I wasn’t in this place anymore (thank you ‘dark night of the soul‘).  I knew that it wasn’t personal.  What “he” was doing wasn’t speaking to a lack in our love per se.  It was speaking to a lack of love for himself.  He was using others to escape the reflection.  It was very simple and very clear.  The him of two years prior, I’m sure, would agree.  

I also knew that everything done in the dark comes to light.  That’s a truth I put all my faith into now.  I don’t need to go out of my way to prove anything.  Eventually, the truth speaks for itself.  The light always wins. 

The question was, do I finally care about myself enough to be true to me no matter “he” does?  To not allow the actions of someone’s ego take away from my inherent worth.  To have the strength to honor myself and do the right thing no matter what.  To be able to stay in my integrity while feeling pain at the same time.  To love him and let “him” go knowing that that could mean I’d be alone forever.

One of these nights, my love and I were standing in his kitchen. I couldn’t help but to stare into his eyes.  Something was different.  I was squinting, trying to see and understand what it was.  He asked me what I was looking at and I told him that his eyes were weird.  We went into the bathroom together and looked in the mirror.  He acknowledged that they weren’t normal but tried to shrug it off.  Did he take something?  I asked him and he looked genuinely hurt at the question. 

I wonder now if I just noticed that the spark in them were gone…the Henry eyes were gone.

For me, the clock was ticking…29 days, 28 days, 27 days…the truth would show itself.  I knew it would.  I prayed it would.  I prayed the right thing would happen.  My love would either get honest and change or hold onto the lies “he” was telling himself and run away. 

I couldn’t let anything to do with “him” deter me from my path.  I couldn’t spiral again.  I had to be ok.  The things that I did for my entire being every day (even when I didn’t want to) ensured that I would be, even though it didn’t always feel good.

As for my brother, the clock was ticking there too, but I didn’t know that.  I tried to be a good sister and just listen and give my input when he asked for it.  And although he couldn’t make up his mind whether he should try to work it out for their family’s sake or if he should leave, I readied his room just in case…

My love and I were trying to keep it together.  Whenever I would bring up the inevitable conversation, he would say over and over, “We’re not breaking up.  We’re not breaking up.”  But then another time he told me that my standards were too high, that I expected too much (even though my standards hadn’t changed since the day we met).  They were just too high for “him.”

We took the kids to an amusement park and had a great time.  We spent some time with my family, with his family.  We spent some time in Our Universe…

Strange, but amazing spiritual things were still happening with us.  “He” usually downplayed them, and it always dimmed my shine when he did.  “He” tried so hard to fit us in a box that we just didn’t belong in.  There would never be a box big enough.

We were talking one night on the phone about Henry and Henrietta and wondering aloud about the babies.  How come we’ve never seen one?  When do they leave the nest?  Blah, blah, blah.

The next morning as I was walking to my car, I noticed something in my vegetable garden.  The closer I got, the clearer it became…a baby hawk!  Right there in my garden after we just had that conversation!! 

(I am endlessly in awe of life and these types of synchronicities…the signs that let you know that everything is going to be ok somehow.  The comfort in knowing there’s more.)

Another time, we were painting his kid’s bedroom.  As he was prepping, I started painting all of our names on top of the old paint on the walls.  He said, “No, Love!  Don’t do that.  The last time you did that, we broke up afterwards.”  He told me that for years he could see our names through the paint and every day he would look at it and feel sad.  Wow.  I didn’t even remember that I did that and here I was doing it again… 

On that painting day, my best friend was there.  We talked about everything under the sun and laughed a lot.  It felt so easy. It felt like us.  “My dear,” I said, “I love you so much.  I don’t want you to go away again.” 

He looked bothered and said something like, “Just tell me, love.  Just remind me and hopefully I’ll be able to come back.” 

I remember the way my heart twisted at that as I already learned that’s not the way it works.  We can’t make anyone do anything.  There’s also a fine line between trying to help bring him back and compromising myself and my convictions in the process (which I would not be able to do for another second in this life).

We were so close. Almost…we almost made it.

Then came the day I’ve been dreading to write about, but also the reason I’m here sharing my story with you…

It was a deceptively lovely Tuesday morning in August.  Still early enough that it was comfortably warm and not stifling hot.  I was at a client’s home who has the most beautiful whimsical gardens.  I always feel profoundly peaceful whenever I’m there, like it’s where I’m supposed to be.  Except (and I didn’t fully understand it) she hates ‘Forget Me Nots.’  I was to rip them out whenever I came across them.

My relationship was on a high note. My birthday was the weekend coming up. We were going to have some time together alone down the shore and a long-awaited date night. I was feeling dreamy and so full of hope.

I was kneeling on the edge of botanical bliss when the message came through:

“I’m so sorry my sister.  I didn’t mean for this to happen…”

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