It didn’t end.
It never was. And yet I’m grieving over it. It wasn’t physical. It wasn’t emotional. And yet, it was something.
See, the thing is with pseudo-relationships…you tell yourself that they mean less than they actually do. And being me, my knee-jerk reaction is to squash any kind of pain with jaded nonchalance.
But no. These past couple of years have taught me enough to acknowledge loss and let myself go through the process.
I knew from the beginning that it would have to end this way. It just could never be. Fundamentally, we weren’t compatible. And yet we seemed to enjoy each other’s presence. So we kept up that charade of a friendship, never really seeing each other and yet constantly in contact.
We shared stories about our pasts. We confided in each other about our anxieties and troubles. We traded inside jokes and favorite silly emojis. Nearly every day for the better part of a year, a simple reminder of “Hey, I’m still here” without actually saying it.
It was like a nicotine patch…something to just get me through, a way to feel as though I wasn’t just a ghost drifting through life – that someone cared enough to keep me in his life, to be content with what little I could give simply because I was there. And I was content with what little he could give simply because he was there.
But the line was never crossed. It wasn’t a relationship; it was a cheap substitute…for both of us. I don’t doubt that we cared (and still care) for each other, but at some point we needed to be wise enough to let it go. And for some strange reason we both felt it at the same time.
No words were spoken.
Only silence. Respectful, kind, and heavy silence.
It’s more painful than I anticipated. And yet I’m more than grateful to God for the experience.
Because for once in my life, I’ve let go of someone in absolute and perfect peace.
Because I’ve finally learned to let go of something good, to make room for God’s best.
