Broken Heart, Part 2

I am very very very not ready to read all the emails Ben and I sent each other over the course of our relationship. Learned that the hard way just now after going into the saved folder of my inbox. I saved everything we ever sent each other. Everything. I deleted our texts this morning because I cannot trust myself, my cell phone always on my person, to not re-read, re-read, re-read, but the emails will stay. Briefly looking through my saved folder this morning, all I could see was, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

I woke up this morning alone, of course, and felt yet again stunned by the fact that I will never curl my body around his again. Can I please just spend the rest of my life sitting here, crying, writing about Ben?

I wonder if he still loves me. I still love him, so painfully. The last email he ever sent me, he didn’t say it. I noticed. It burned around my head until our relationship’s end became achingly clear. And still I wonder: could he turn off his love so fast? Has he already moved on?

This is all my fault! I want to scream it from the rooftops: I drove my beautiful love away. I promise you there are things you do not know, things that will bring me shame for the rest of my life, though our relationship was unhealthy beyond them. I had so much pain and I forced him to feel every single piece of it. I made him feel all of it, made him look into me until he could see nothing but the sadness inside. I made him drown in it. He couldn’t save me; I brought him down with my ship.

Alone, I am suddenly buoyant. A sad boat, but a live one. I am not ready to steer myself yet–I am deep at sea and the waves are high, but I am riding them. I am floating. I do now know where I will go. I have relinquished control.

I will keep on mourning the loss of our love. I will keep on mourning the curly haired, gap toothed babies I will never have. Those babies are killing me, I love them so much. The day before he broke up with me, I got my period and cried I wasn’t pregnant with his baby. I know that is sick and wrong, and my logical head says thank goodness, but my heart won’t stop screaming for a connection with him.

I don’t want to eat breakfast, pet a dog, see a white van without him. Just being alive, everything in this world reminds me of Ben. For the past year and a half, everything I saw that was wonderful I shared with him. Every cute dog. Every weird tree, beautiful cloud, half-heard funny conversation. The guy I see around Seattle with the cat balanced on his back. I shared with him my pain, but also every happiness. I wasn’t all bad. I was just totally, completely, trustingly, heart-wrenchingly open. I made him take all of me. We were the beginning and the end of each other.

He couldn’t save me.

Yesterday, I walked along the water alone, where Ben and I walked so many times. I walked past the aquarium where I took him for our anniversary. I walked past the hotel on the water where we wanted to make love. I walked past the sculpture park where we pointed out dogs to each other and watched the sun set.

It was sunny and cold. I walked briskly, pausing only to smile at dogs or smell the spring blossoms on a tree. Ben and I will never spend a spring or summer in Seattle together, but I will survive.


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About Emily Suggests

Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother.

3 responses to “Broken Heart, Part 2”

  1. Margie Shapiro says :

    Sending you a BIG HUG !! Sorry you’re hurting – been there, done that – you will get through it – I PROMISE!!



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