Telling It Like It Is

This one has been burning inside for quite some time. Today I gave myself permission to write it.

The fog finally burned away and with the azure sky, cloudless and fresh, came a sense of relief, for she was free of the burden of uncertainty. She understood completely that he wanted nothing more to do with her. And while in years past her heart would have been wrenched until it ached, now it did not. It beat on, a perpetual steadiness that offered proof that she would not die from this either.

For weeks she had cried, not always openly and never in the presence of another person, for she would have appeared weak, she thought, or vulnerable to the onslaught of another unknown misfortune for which she was woefully unprepared. It was a paradox really, to know she had been susceptible to being hurt because she was strong, her courage and tenacity to withstand hardships engrained and secure.

So on this day with the gift of sudden enlightenment as to the certain severance of the relationship with him, she spoke directly to herself as she would a child. It’s not you, honey. It’s him. His decision is in his hands and how you react is in yours. It is not in your power to control another individual. It was a truth. She would not snivel in despair and she would not cloud her mind with speculation; she simply would be. And why? It was because she was old now and perhaps in his eyes not worthy of the commitment of precious time. He surely had others in his life, those who had commandeered his loyalty and perhaps that was not a reprehensible thought. She always had wanted him to be happy. She truly hoped he was.

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