(March 29, 2013)

My world seemed to close around me without much of a sound.  The room I was in was dark, but it was the silence and my rambling thoughts that were most troubling.  I had no fear of the darkness or of what may be lurking in the shadows thereof.  I had no fear of the person in the room with me either.  My fear, if I had any at all, was in concern to what this moment would mean to me once it was over.

Cold, is what I really felt.  Not in regards to the room, but inside my heart for even allowing him this chance to test me.  Once upon a time, as they say, I loved him to the point of nearly going mad.  Thinking back, I remember very well the pain of how my every thought seemed to be solely about him and what he had put me through.  But all that was gone.  Time heals all wounds, another cliché, I know, but all time ever gave to me was an emptiness that only a broken spirit could fully comprehend.

“I loved you,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my check softly as he stood behind me.

“Ha. Really?”  I didn’t like my sarcasm so I mentally corrected myself with the intent to keep myself cool and calm.  “Nearly two years together and only now, after all this time, can you bring yourself to say those words.”

“Some things are hard for a man to say.”  Feeling his arms suddenly wrap around me merely brought up the idea to elbow him hard in the ribs.  But that would have some meaning to it so I remained still.

“Was it hard for you to say it to the one you left me for?  You know, your wife?”

“This is not about her.  It’s about us.  About what we had.”  His ability to maintain his composure was more than just a little annoying.  “I want you to remember. You need to remember.”

“I need to forget.”

“You need to forgive.”

“And why in the world would I do that?”

“Because whether I ever said it or not, you need to remember how much I loved you.”   And of course, I did. I remembered it all. The smell of his favorite cologne. The way he always held my hand.  How he sometimes looked at me.  Dancing under the moonlight.  Stealing a kiss or touch whenever he could.  – Remembering all of those things only made my heart hurt because I already knew what else was coming.  Like the night we made each other cry.  How I felt when he told me he had to leave me.  The sadness I felt about his Wedding and the crushing heartbreak I suffered on the day that he died.

Snapping back to myself I was sitting at my laptop with my hands over my eyes.  Like it or not, I had no choice but to believe that he loved me even though he never said.  When I could finally bring myself to look at the screen, I found the only word I had been able to write was “Forgiven.”  I guess I finally could.