*written January 6, 2016. It was a year ago today when I found out he got married. He married someone. He actually married a “GIRL!” (this is surprising to me as it is to our common friends)
After quite a long period of time since the last time I unfollowed him on instagram, finally I had the courage to check his profile once again. By checking, I meant going through each photo posted from when the news of him getting married and having a “WIFE” surfaced. Having said this, I was surprised at how my friends reacted to that news, even asking me ridiculous questions that clearly I, myself, don’t have the answers to. But I know for one thing that I didn’t feel anything at all, and If I did, that would be happiness for him.
I didn’t know how to begin. As I’ve said, I didn’t have the answers. I, myself, had questions on my own that, for some reason, made me doubt the validity of what once happened between us. Whether that was all for show or he was exploratory at that time, I wouldn’t know for sure.
I was not in the position to unfairly judge him just because I felt that his sincerity got tarnished — at least for me, nor was I to hold grudge for not knowing what came about after we lost contact many years ago. There is absolutely no one to be blamed, and cliché as it maybe, it could be that things happened for a reason. Reason, that up until this day, remained hidden in the bottom of the ocean. And to be honest, pride pushed aside, I wanted to seek for answers, not because I deserved it but, perhaps, because I wanted to make peace with it. Or not that I haven’t made peace with it either because, not to sound defensive, I felt like I’ve made peace with it a long time ago. Then, I guess, there was just comfort in “knowing”. Maybe that’s it! Maybe, for no reason at all, I just wanted to know. After all, we could remain friends and laugh it off — or so I say.
I would like to make this clear that this was never to question his sexuality, rather, from my point of view, this is how I felt. And no one, not even my family or even my closest of friends, could held it against me. I felt that I need to openly talk about this not for my healing –because the word “healing” implied that something was broken which I was not- but I think because I was the type who likes to overanalyze and made tiny things a billion times bigger than they actually are. Believe me, I have fixed myself a long time ago, but I would not dare deny the bucket of tears and angry, other times pathetic, letters I had written.
I have always believed in the concept of course progression; there involved process or system for everything. And not that much of a surprise, in the game of love lay an interwoven emotional processes that only the “self” can explain — but most of the time cannot. I wouldn’t deny and (he couldn’t deny) that I have tried to seek (beg, rather) for answers that would hopefully lead me to a closure that was the ultimate end result.
Of course, no one would want to be left hanging on a cliff as if waiting for someone to come and save you. The intricacies of love was evident, and in heartbreaks even more, there is a process of getting closure; a process to which a person tirelessly asks all the questions in its “Why” form as if to connect pieces together, to explain what have led to that unexpected devastating outcome.
Yet when everything began to get messy and if you stayed in that state for a long time, you would eventually get stuck in that dark and miserable place. Thus, it later dawned on me the sheer power of just “letting go”. That the closure we, the heartbroken ones, desire should not rely on the other party involved. That you could close a chapter willingly (with pure hard work) on your own without the presence of the one causing you to close it in the first place. Whether you have the answers or not, you just have to push yourself in every single difficult day to get up and grieve.
Grieving is a process of letting go, and by the act of grieving comes burying of the urge to find answers and reasons for everything. Thus, when the answers, whether it makes sense or not, arrive at your doorstep unforced, you would have acquired enough strength and acceptance within you, that it no longer makes you feel less.
I wouldn’t say I was hurt. I would rest my case by saying that my heart was filled to the brim with joy that he had a go at a love that he felt was right and fortunate enough, love made its way to him. For what it’s worth, he deserved all these blessings coming his way, and in the same way, I felt blessed that I still get to wake up each given day. Well, maybe not with a love life, but I can get by with the little that I have -or so I say.
No matter how much bitterness I wanted to dig deeper within myself, I couldn’t find it in the confines of my human anatomy. This is what I meant when I talked about grieving and letting go of that itch to have the reasons and answers in my possession. I have admitted to myself , even in the dark of days, that this world could sometimes be remorseless. Time won’t stop when you’re brimming with happiness. And time won’t run quickly when you’re in pain. So the choice only boils down to two: you remain miserable for the rest of your remaining life or suck it up and maybe out there your happy ending awaits. After all love is a gamble, you just have to go with the waves when it hits you.
It would be absolutely unfair to judge him for the choices he made in the past. For whatever he made out himself today was a ripple effect of the tiny actions of his past. But sometimes I wonder: Will this present be the present that it is had we not met in the past? The truth is, it is easy to say that an alternate present without him would be what I would like my present to be, however though, this present that I am unfortunately gifted with involves some random meeting that snowballed into something special (at least for me).
Having said this, I have not regretted even a speck of a moment that I have shared with him. It was a whirlwind of assumptions –mostly me, because (I could admit and laugh about it now) maybe It was just all in my imaginative, insane mind. I was guilty of this and I’m pretty sure there is a good number of people out there who would agree with me that a little drama creates color. We are all guilty, at least the vulnerable ones, that sometimes we take the meaningless, the random nothings, and magnify it to create a tale that overpowers our sense of reality. And for what? Of course not for anything else but to make ourselves, our remaining romantic bones, believe in the promise of love.
Anyway, case in point, I wouldn’t claim I was loved, because, again, that belonged to the list of endless questions that I have let go in my so-called grieving process. However, I managed to get a glimpse of how it felt to love someone. I wouldn’t say that the love I gave was superior to the greatest love this earth had seen. But I know for sure, in my heart and soul, that it was Love. Otherwise, I would not be sitting here in front of the computer trying to revisit that feeling of fleeting happiness that I once held, yet, destroyed me in the same way.
I will say this now, because I feel that this is the right time to say it. The question of his sexuality remains an enigma to all. For me, it is insignificant. We were given freewill for a reason; and as for him, I choose happiness. No matter what beautiful mess occurred between us, I still won’t trade it for an alternate present without him in it. Perhaps a present without him is not my ideal one, but this present is what I hoped it will be. A present that is a product of the past and a present that is filled with endless possibilities.