A profound sadness
Andrea and I are separating, and I’m discovering new depths of sadness. We’re being very kind to each other in this process, and still it is very painful. I feel that I am losing my best friend, and all the opportunity that I have seen in this relationship.
It’s particularly distressing because I have seen more possibility in our relationship in the past two weeks than I had in the whole preceeding year. We’ve been resolving conflicts with ease. We’ve been working together on projects that we both enjoy. And now I’ve come to learn that, once again, I checked out for too long. I knew that we would soon either marry or separate, but I thought all signs were pointing to the former.
And I’m learning a lot about myself in the process. I am learning about my loneliness and my need for attention. I am learning that I tend to seek nurturance at the keyboard and in front of crowds, rather than in communion with myself and my partner. I want to take this opportunity to learn to take the time for myself that I need to be whole.
Next time around, I want to remember what’s important. I want to be mindful that this relationship (not speaking now of any in particular, but of the one I will be in at the time) is more precious to me than anything else in the world. I think I will want to build it slowly, or from long friendship.
Though some small part of me cries out for new romance, all the rest is grieving still the old.
If I am endless dunes of sandy grain,
and you the clouds that do not fill the sky,
it isn’t that the desert misses rain —
deserts are full of life, and so am I.It isn’t that you’re gone, but it’s the space
I was expecting you to be when I’m
between this thing and that — I lose my place
and wonder what to do to pass the time.You aren’t where I look, in every room,
and rain would make this aching desert bloom.
I wrote that poem a little over a week ago, with the word “will” in place of “would”, when we were apart for a weekend.