"Dude, that was eleven years ago!"
There is a real danger of reopening wounds when confronting the past. Usually things that are at least a decade old should be left alone. In the words of a friend of mine, it this event were a kid, it would be in grade school by now. It's a silent movie, only relevant to the time period. But bear with me.
Here's the truth. It is very easy to talk about the good times and the funny anecdotes. It is much different when you realise that you are the villain. Let me make it clear, I acted appallingly, selfishly and over all stupidly in the months following the breakup.
I was an idiot.
I was 19 and I thought I knew everything. I soon learned the hard way that I didn't. That was the sad truth. It nearly cost me one of the most important relationships I have ever had in my life. Ultimately, at time passed I realised what was really bothering me. It was not the end of the relationship (sad as I was about that.). It was not the hole that appeared when it ended either. The problem I had was my feelings for her. I knew how I felt. I knew it was real. I just wasn't sure she believed me.
This is not arrogance speaking here. The problem was that if someone I cared for so much doubted, I began to doubt myself. Someone even asked me why I loved the person so much and I could find the words to answer. Did that make how I felt any less true? Or were these merely the idealistic desires of someone in love with the concept of being in love?
This would lead to a journey that has evolved over the years. I had resigned to not being part of her life. I will even admit to instances of acting immaturely. One minute I would quietly campaign for support for her when she assumed a particular position in of residential governance. Strange how easy it is to freak out a freshman by quietly telling them it would be in their best interest to support her. Later on, I would undermine her authority. I guess I just wanted to provoke a reaction, any reaction. Kind of like when kids tease the person they fancied.
From my last years in university, it became important to me to see her succeed and for her to be happy. I was glad to be cheering at the sidelines to every victory she had. I kept tabs though, breaking out in a smile with every good fortune she had. As much as I desired to be in her company, I moved to the sidelines. I missed the friend I had in her, before all the drama took over. I missed that sparkle that she brought with her, making even the crappiest day brighter. I missed mattering to her, being able to a blessing and not a burden.
But it wasn't about me. When it stopped being about me, that's when I began to appreciate her truly. I began to look to what made her special to me and why I cared about her to begin with. Soon, she no longer became the ex-girlfriend, but became what she was to begin with. The person who made me better and made me want to be better. She taught me more about patience and compassion than I thought possible. That and how to have the most wicked humour around. Slowly, the cold war ended. Mostly, because I stopped acting like jerk.
I once asked her if she loved me.
She said yes.
I said, "that was all I need to know. "
Years later, I was about to leave the Philippines. I asked if I could see her. People knew I was leaving. It was a decision I made painfully and reluctantly. I thought it was the best decision at the time. But I was having issues saying goodbye. I didn't want to let go. I was afraid this would be the last time I would see her. It was breaking my heart again.
We had coffee. Small talk dominated. She could have said no, but she didn't.
As the evening came to a end, she looked at me.
"You really love me don't you?"
"Yes, " I replied.
"Thank you," she said.
In all my years to that point, no one had ever thanked me. I knew then I could leave at peace. I knew that wherever I went, I had a her with me.
In many ways, some of the better parts of me are because of her.
Years later, in the darkest period I have known personally, I reached out for a friend. She was there. I could not have gotten through that time without her putting up with me. I am and will be forever grateful for her patience and compassion.
Idiot as I was. (One day, we'll open that chapter. But not yet.)
A year ago, she dropped by. We had coffee. On rainy day, in a small cafe overlooking the Thames, I told her that I loved her. She told me she loved me. Ten years. She didn't have to to say it. She didn't need to. But it was nice to hear. It was worth the wait. This was not the romantic love of couples. This was the love of people who cared for each other as individuals. A love for the person, without expectation. One true love.
This, I learned from her.
Once, I was 19 and I fell in love.
At the test of honour, I let her down.
I made some poor choices and acted foolishly.
She stayed a true friend, regardless. Much better than I was.
I was her friend.
That's all she needed to know.
For all my faults and weakness, I am truly sorry, E.
I pray I will always be able to show grace and kindness to all those that I love, just as she did.
I hope one day, I can make her proud.
I'll keep on working to make myself a better person. Keep on loving those special to me as true as I can. Without expectation.
Maybe then, I'll be worthy of that one person I am meant for.
Until then, I'll look forward to the days of sharing coffee,
Like old friends do.
