Thursday 23 May 2013

Closure

It's over. Finally. As I breathe a sigh of relief my breath hitches and I wonder what that is about. I was done mourning right? I had grieved over my loss, gone through the stages, let the anger, the loneliness, the betrayal wash over me. I had allowed the sadness engulf me because only when it spat me out would I be able to continue.

Then what was this? Why was there a hitch in my breath and a dry sob at the back of my throat? Why did a tear threaten to roll out?

Because it's over. Finally. No more negotiations or hopes of a reconciliation. It is my reality. I have a failed marriage and nothing can change that now. I feel empty, drained. I miss him. I miss the life I had with him. And I so desperately miss the life I had wanted to have with him. The life that never got a chance. The life that was aborted before it could take a breath.

I miss the old Bollywood songs, sung on the dark roads of McLeod Ganj. The conversations that went deep into the night when we had nothing much left to say but didn't want to hang up. The special "I got it for you" haircuts. The names we gave each other. The sliding across the airport floor because we were just so happy that we had an extra half hour together. I miss the songs dedicated to me. The long rides on our bike. The roller coasters and amusement parks. The foodie indulgences just because we had a craving. I miss the morning cuddles. The lemon tea. The surprise hugs from behind. Looking into each others eyes in the mirror and feeling complete. Singing our son to sleep and then fighting over who's going to wake up when he opened his eyes in the morning. I miss the togetherness. Of having someone to hold, to love.

But it is over now. We didn't give it the nourishment it needed.

So goodbye my partner. Thank you for everything you gave me. I hope from today I will carry within the good memories and let go of the rest. And I hope someday we will be able to be together again. As friends, and as parents to the the most awesome boy in the universe.