On the run II
I find it somewhat therapeutic to read these stories. To know that it's not just me who got taken in a whirlwind romance for lockdown to experience the hurt on the drop. Nearly four months from posting my story about finding love on the run... I'm here, sitting in a puddle of tears and trying to figure out where it went wrong.
The more I read, the more I realise that so many others struggle with the meeting of the right person. It's like there are so many factors which have to collide and slot together in a moment. Unfortunately, a joint love for running, church, or adventure, just won't cut it.
I can’t believe what a zombie I’ve become. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this kind of grief before. It’s made worse with autumn’s arrival. I’m not ready to say goodbye to summer or to our time together. I feel like the change in seasons is one of my favourite times normally, but I’m not ready to move onto the next chapter. I’m not ready to let go of the memories or see the days turn short; the mornings and afternoons, dark.
I feel so deeply saddened walking anywhere. I feel like we made so many memories, walking all over and exploring life and love in lockdown. Everywhere I go seems to be covered in a thick layer of silted memories I find myself wading through. I can’t walk anywhere now without grieving the loss of that friendship.
It feels cathartic to write about it though. A bit dramatic, but mainly cathartic. To share those memories with a world of people who will never personally know me or my pain, but who I know will understand the feelings. Because I see it – loss happens – Every. Damn. Day. How people don’t walk around with gaping holes I don’t understand. Maybe, they do?
I remember that time we spent talking together in the hammock until midnight in the middle of the week, in the fields south of the river.
All the times we ran along the river. Our first half marathon, completed together.
When we stood at the foot of the bell tower and held hands for the first time.
That time when you carried me across the soccer fields late at night in your arms after mucking around together on one of our late-night walks - just because. We couldn’t get out of the field so we had to climb the fence. On any of our walks, you would always walk me home, and then walk back to your house, 30-40 minutes’ walk away. Made my heart melt a little.
All those times we sat by the river watching the sunsets and eating. Eating ice-cream, curry, hummus. (Not together. But always a lot of hummus).
That day we took off work silly and spontaneous and rode up to Wimbledon Common to spend a day together. We didn’t get home till late, and I got that stupid cut from my bike we wrapped in plastic because that’s all we had. I taught you two-handed 500 and we ate grapes for days. That cut on my leg healed but left a big purple scar. I think I always looked at it and didn’t want it to go because it represented that day together and I remembered it with fondness. So much fondness. Now I find myself searching for ways to try and make it go away.
Those times we would watch storms roll in and always find so much satisfaction announcing the arrival of storm at any time of day. No matter where we were - if we were at home working or out, there would always be some kind of exchange via text to announce the weather change. I was always excited about it, and I feel like so were you. Maybe you were excited because I was.
That time you walked me back to the Santander bikes near your house. You’d given me your credit card, so I could take a bike home, as we had ridden home on Santander’s the night before. We’d ridden home as fast as we could so we could spend all the time together. We had both made the decision not to give ourselves away until marriage, so we kissed and talked for hours, and then you went and slept in the spare room. You were always so respectful, and careful of that. That next morning, we stood on the corner of the road and hugged… You talked about waiting for marriage and how it would be good. I laughed and I said, ‘It might not be you know, but we will see.’ You smiled and said reassuringly, ‘I know it will be good, because we had a ‘taste’ of what it could be like.’ I remember feeling gooey in my tummy and appreciating we could talk about it, and look forward to something like that. We talked quietly about the possibility of marriage. I don’t feel like it was just me. It was mutually led. Did that deep down frighten you? Scare you?
So many memories and moments that I cycle through in my mind, torn between trying to let them go and move on; trying to understand where we went wrong; and holding onto them so I will never forget this time together. I don’t fully understand the why, but somewhere along the line, you cut me out. You said it wasn’t anything I did, you just fell out of feeling for me. I never got to tell you I loved you.
There are some days like today I can only sum up in a few words: I miss you so unbelievably much. Even more so, I miss me before you. Sometimes, it feels like it will never heal or ever get better.
I'm just going to have to let time take its course, and learn to love me again, after you.