The reflection had become too ugly for “him” to look at.  Between what happened with my brother, how backed up he had become with deception, and the words ‘ground rules,’ he had to run.  Over the course of time, he had rendered himself entirely incapable of Truth and bound by fear.

I DO think it’s important to point out that it could have gone another way. 

Maybe someone’s reading this that still has a chance with their love story and doesn’t know that. 

If he could have told the full truth, he could have freed himself.  Except he just plain couldn’t.  He was doing the exact same things that the chains in his bloodline dictated that he do…working ALL the time, wearing a mask, infidelity.  On paper, he was checking all the boxes that society says a man should have checked…career, money, physical capability, etc. 

Mentally, emotionally, spiritually however…he didn’t have those tools anymore, and he didn’t have anyone else holding him accountable either.  Nobody knew him the way I did.  No one else noticed the Henry eyes were gone.  There was not one other person in his life that loved themselves enough to love him enough to tell the truth.  A million surface level friends just like “he” wanted.

How heartbreaking.

THIS is why what I do everyday matters because people matter.  Regarding helping others, the commitment to myself and the discipline that goes along with that is where all my value lies. 

These aren’t things I say to sound good, nor are they fun all the time, but they are imperative to my being.  They are also things that prepare me for days I have no idea are coming yet.  Things that made me able to face that horrible day with my brother and this horrible day with the man I loved.  To face them with eyes wide open and in integrity.  They make me a person that can and does do my best to help others with my experience and by example in a true, honest, responsible way.  

This is my life’s work and I take it to heart.  It doesn’t make me the most popular.  If others aren’t aligned, I am the last person they want to see.  It’s ok.  I’ve been there too.  It doesn’t matter what anyone else does.  It matters what I do.  It matters that I stay sober and love me (through my actions, not my pretty words), so that I can do what I came here to do…help and love others the way that others helped and loved “me.” 

“We” need this.  We need each other.  “We” need the truest us, the realest us. 

My brother needed us, as did his wife, as did my love (and many, many others).  You, see? 

~

“He” had become as unraveled as I’ve ever seen him.  Eyes shifty and blank, with glimpses of him trying to pull through.  He just couldn’t quite do it.  “His” darkness was too loud. 

Helplessly, hopelessly watching someone I love so immensely, slip away…among the saddest things I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

“He” accused me of cheating and admitted to going through my phone at one time (reflection to deflection).  What the fuck?  After my disbelief, I asked him if he found anything (knowing what the answer would be).  “No, but you probably deleted it.”

Ugh…yeah.  Exactly.  For all these years I’ve just been really good at lying and deleting shit.  I only made it to 19 years old as an active alcoholic and drug addict because that’s how bad I am at living like that.

Here’s a truth.  People tell on themselves.  If someone is accusing you of something you haven’t done, they’re admitting their own guilt.

Another truth, (in case the ~40,000 words before this weren’t enough) I was so madly in love with this man that not even Brad Pitt circa ‘Legends of the Fall’ could have taken me from him (if you know, you know).  More importantly, I didn’t cheat because of anything to do with him.  But simply because it’s not the way I move in the world.  Not now.  I was faithful for me. For my need to be free.

He started babbling something of a disconcerted confession.  He gave bits and pieces…a couple more women through work, a couple randoms. 

I don’t know to what extent it went.  I asked no questions.  I needed no clarification. 

Also, his ex was back just like my intuition had told me.  Hadn’t had anything to do with her children in the 2 years I was there, but back “friends” with him, nonetheless.

He said, “You know what?!  We said 30 days.  It’s 30 days.  Love doesn’t matter so unless you have the answer, let’s just be done.”

“What’s the answer??  I’ve exhausted every avenue!” 

“He” was always looking for the quick fix.  The ‘magical answer’ but didn’t want to hear anything about the real solution…asking for help, looking in the mirror, facing your fears, honesty, love. 

“And love doesn’t matter?!  You are so far gone.  You need help!” 

“He” despised the word “love” from me too.  He would look at me as if I were a naïve little girl who had no idea what she was talking about. 

“Let’s just be done,” he said.

Defeated, I said, “Ok.”

Ok.  You’re right.  Love doesn’t matter.  The lengths that the universe went to help to bring us together, it’s all in my mind.  You’re right. 

The fact that you met my grandfather years before you met me when you personally installed my father’s kitchen cabinets 2 hours further from where you normally work.  Means nothing.  Encountering Henry on the very first day we started talking (never before) and regularly since. The time we made love and the candle burned so impossibly bright that we thought someone turned on the light.  The twin and single father connections.  The fact that whenever their mom came around, my mom came around.  The feeling each other from miles and miles away.  The massive spiritual awakening, the 11:11, the angels, the dreams, the déjà vu, the baby hawk, the weird repeat experiences, the music, and all the other synchronicities I can’t even remember.  You’re right.  None of it matters. 

I surrender.      

For so long as he was trying, I was trying.  I didn’t want to go anywhere.  But “he” had made me his enemy yet again, and I was so very tired.  So much had happened.  I had no more fight in me, and I could no longer justify what I was fighting for. 

The reality was that he didn’t actually exist here in this world.  He existed in a place that only we knew.

He was only “his” potential. 

I could have begged for “him” to see the truth and compromise myself again or I could have sat there quietly, looking pretty, but…have we met? 

Neither option allowed me to be true to me and that’s not negotiable anymore.

What could I do but cry?  Shattered to the very depths of my soul.  I already knew how much I would miss him…my best friend, my lover.  It was like he died even though “he” was right in front of me.  He was gone and maybe he wouldn’t come back this time. 

He stood there quietly for a while as I cried, like he had something to say, but when I asked, he said, “I got nothing.”  All these years…all these beautiful words to pick from and nothing? 

When I was crying for my brother just two weeks before, he said, “I’m just glad it’s not me causing your tears.”

I told him that I wished him the best and I meant it. Though I also know that when you live like that, more pain is on the horizon. 

He said the same and added, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.  I don’t think it’ll take very long.”  That poked my ego for a hot second.  I knew exactly what he meant, yet I’m still here on my own. His last hope for me has come true though.  I have found what I’ve been looking for.  I’ve found me.

“What should we tell the kids?” he asked.  “That we decided to end it?”

“Yes, except the truth is that “you” decided to end it.”

We told his parents first.  They weren’t expecting this type of news.  They were surprised and his mother was visibly sad saying, “I really wanted you guys to work.”  Me too.

We sat the children down as he explained, “I decided to end our relationship.”  He made sure to put all the emphasis on the “I.”  One last dig I gather.

As he spoke, I watched my daughter look “him” straight in the eyes.  She adored him.  I watched her eyes well up with tears.  I saw her try so hard not to let them drop in front of him.  Oh, my sweet daughter…I’m so sorry.  I told the boys that I loved them so much.

I ushered her up from her chair and we went to get our things. 

We said goodbye to his parents and when his mother hugged my child, all of our tears were set loose. She brought me in the hug and the 3 of us just cried and cried in each other’s arms. 

I thanked her sincerely for treating us so good.  That meant so much to me.   

I swear I remember feeling a chill as I passed the icy statue of the man who was stifling the light of the soul I was still fully in love with…

And with the tears of three generations of females staining my denim jacket, we walked out the door.  

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