The Longest Hour

This might be the most difficult blog I have ever had to write. It all started last week when he called me to ask me what the status was on getting my stuff. I wrote about it on a previous blog. Then, at the end, he suggested we have coffee-a sort of "I'm sorry that we argued" sort of occasion. As the week went on, my heart became more and more sure that he would call and cancel on me, find an excuse or some unavoidable event that made it impossible for us to get together.

I called him to remind him, and he said that we were still going to meet, and suddenly, I realized that something was different. He's always flaked on me in the past, or found a reason to postpone our get-togethers. But an actual meeting meant that he had something to tell me-the inevitability of what would come next was unsettling.

So we left work early and met at Starbucks. I couldn't help but be completely nervous; just seeing him in person always makes my heart do flip flops-an unexpected result of my love for him. He approached me and we hugged, but there was something different about it, something cold. We got our coffees and he asked me how I was doing. I always know when something bad is approaching with him because he'll ask me how I'm doing first, before going into the bad news. We discussed my dog Brinkley and I announced that finally I would be able to take him to my home. I could tell by the look in his eye that he would miss Brinkley; he'd been in his life for over three years now.
"It's not too late for us to have joint custody of him." I joked. Funny thing was, that's not really what I meant, and he knew it; that's how connected we are.
"Well," he paused for a long, silent moment. Then, with a hint of sadness or was that regret? "I can't."
In the next breath, he was telling me that his girlfriend of 10 months was expecting. Pregnant. She was pregnant?

My heart proceeded to drop as he told me that she was already past her first trimester. They knew that they were having a little girl. He told me the news with a sort of saddened pride. I was saddened and imagined my face looking as much without affect as I could possibly stand it.

It was almost like that song, the one I'd played over and over again, by Sarah McLaughlin,

"What ravages of spiritconjured this temptuous rage,created you a monster,broken by the rule of love?And fate has led you through it.You do what you have to do.And fate has led you through it.You do what you have to do…"

This guy, the one that told me that he was never going to have a baby, who promised me that I would find someone before I did, had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. I tried to appear unaffected by the news, and part of me wasn't surprised and the other, was stunned into silence.
The minutes ticked by like hours as he talked about the fact that he claimed he hadn't told me or anyone really, as he was afraid something was going to go wrong. The man who told me over and over again how much he did not really care for children, was going to be a father. Some little girl was going to call him "daddy."

I knew from the day I met him that he would make a good father. We met at a sushi restaurant, he with his arm around a pretty girl, and me with Steve. There was just something about him-the way he talked, the way he moved; I felt different whenever I was around him. But what really made him amazing the day I met him, was the way he treated me. He could tell I'd never had sushi a day in my life and he was considerate and observant. He offered to order for me; offered to teach me how to use chopsticks, etc. Meanwhile, Steve was just sitting there staring at my inability to do it correctly. But even more so was his way of doting on the girl he had brought to dinner. She was gorgeous-blonde hair, blue eyes-little did I know that was to be a commonality in California. He treated her with the most amazing amount of respect. As a stranger, I was sure that they were in love.

My mind forwarded to the present. Here it was, years later, and fate had dealt its hand. He got the very thing he told me he didn't want.

"And I have the sense to recognizethat I don't know how to let you go."

I suddenly got sick to my stomach and my mind started reeling. Everything that was or could be between us, was now erased by the beginning of a new life with someone else. I flashed back to the times we had that were so wonderful.
There was just something about him, right from the beginning. We had this sort of connection, this way of looking at things that went immediately beyond the boundaries of our friendship. It was as if we simply understood one another. He knew just what to say when I needed to hear it. Even when I was with Steve, once in a while we'd travel somewhere all together, and I was never bored. . He had a way of completing my thoughts before I had completed them myself. And yet, at the time, he was with a girl-another blonde-haired, blue eye beauty. But as time went on, I could see by the look in his eyes that he was unhappy. He pretended to be happy on the outside, but those big, brown, expressive eyes told a different story. There was just something about him, something that begged for a closer look. I couldn't help but have a crush on him from the day I met him.

When things with Steve did not go well, I really wanted to talk to him about it. But I also wanted to get to know him better. I called him one night, after school, not expecting him to pick up the phone as I never called him. He answered, and we easily fell into conversation.
"Are you hungry? Would you like some dinner?" were one of the first words out of his mouth. His compassion and caring knocked me off my feet.
And so, our friendship was formed and pretty soon, I found myself calling him every night, spending more and more time with him on the phone. Or I would go to his house and he would make me tea or hot chocolate. And we'd talk about everything. Hours would pass by like minutes.

"Every moment markedwith apparitions of your soul.I'm ever swiftly moving,trying to escape this desire,the yearning to be near you.I do what I have to do.The yearning to be near you.I do what I have to do."

I did everything I could to be near him. Slowly, we became best friends; he'd call me on his way home from work or we'd play games together online. At one point, things with Steve had spiraled out of control, and it was time to move out; he suggested I rent a room from him. Knowing my own desire for him had surpassed what it should, I openly showed little regard for the idea. I knew that if we lived together, my interest in him would only grow and I was afraid of that happening. But he blew down my defenses, and pretty soon, we were living together.

"And I have the sense to recognizethat I don't know how to let you go.I don't know how to let you go."

There was so much about him that was so similar to me that it was scary: we both loved computer games, we both had similar interest and knowledge in computers and how they worked, he was obsessed with Japanese art and architecture just as I was. He loved the same foods, drank similar drinks. What's more, he took care of me. I came home one day or woke up for work (can't recall which) and he had washed, dried, ironed, and hung up all of my clothing for me. He made the best steak on the planet. "Tasty steak" we always called it, was his specialty…

"A glowing ember, burning hot,and burning slow.Deep within, I'm shaken by the violenceof existing for only you."

We got along so well, it scared me. But there were problems. My last boyfriend had been afraid to be in public, and as a result, I had no friends of my own. My friends had been his friends. And when he and I had broken up, I had only one or two friends of my own-but they were married and had little time for me. My world revolved around him. I wanted to get out and go do things with him. But he kept encouraging to find other friends. I felt it was a way of him pushing me away, but in reality, he was merely giving me an opportunity to find myself.

But things aren't always as perfect as they seem. He had his issues, a "newsstand full" he would say. But he was perfect to me. I can honestly say that he made me feel content in a way that I've never felt before or since.

I forward again to the present, and he is sitting in front of me, trying to judge my reaction to his "news."
"I'm really surprised, hon."
"Yeah?" I didn't want him to say anything. I wanted for the news to catch up to me, so I'd have something intelligent to say. But I knew that my heart was taking it all in and drowning slowly.
"I know you've got to be really upset by this, but you're taking this all very well."
"Yeah well…" I choked back the emotion that was threatening to overtake me. "There's nothing I can do now." I said. "I have to support you and be happy for you now."

"I know I can't be with you.I do what I have to do.I know I can't be with you.I do what I have to do."

I did what I had to do-I congratulated him and tried to get to know a little more about his plans for his future life. We talked for a few more minutes, and to be honest, I cannot quite recall what was said. The totality, the weight, of what he had told me was sinking into my brain and my heart and I felt as though any moment I might break down and reveal the truth in my heart. But it had just about been an hour-the longest hour of my life-the hour that turned possibilities and hope into nothing more than the reality that my future was no longer tied to his. In that moment, I realized that a part of me had foolishly held on to the hope that one day we'd work it out-we'd start over, and be the people we used to be. We'd abandon our foolish pride and we'd make it work.

But that is merely the stuff of fairy tales. But still in my heart, there had always been room for him.

"And I have the sense to recognize But I don't know how to let you go.I don't know how to let you go."

My journey must continue onward without him. Gone are the long conversations with my best friend, the games played until the wee hours of the morning, the long walks with our dog. I hve been, in essence, replaced. So many emotions have floated around in my head; part of me felt as though I have failed somehow; I wasn't good enough and that's why he didn't pick me. The other part of me feels as though I had given my best and was wonderful, but never really loved.

I look back and am so grateful for our time together, but I'm also bitter and sad. There was so much in him that I loved. He brought out the best in me. But he also brought out some of the worst. I knew, as I know now, that it was time to move on-time to accept the inevitability of change. The undeniable fact that once again I wasn't what he wanted.

It wasn't supposed to be like this; this wasn't supposed to end up this way. What about me wasn't good enough? How could you turn away from a love as amazing as ours? I can see the look in his eye; he feels the same way. But he's tied to a different future because he made a mistake. But it's too late to go back.

You'd think I'd be able to shrug this all off; but I'm a person. And he was just so amazing to me. He gave me the fairy tale and reality and fit so well in my life that I cannot even begin to describe it. Even now, as I realize that I sound like a love-crazed fool, I remember the good times and realize why we fell in love in the first place.

But I loved him. Love, like so many things in this world, is often a victim, often succumbs to a death formed by our own decisions. Love dies, sometimes fading away like embers and sometimes burning itself out like a flame. And in that hour, that longest hour, I lost the love of my life forever.