Day Twelve: "Decisions"
One of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make was believing a voice I heard inside my head and believing what I felt at a pretty critical moment in my life. When I was in grade twelve I became close to an amazing individual. In fact, I'm comfortable with saying that I even grew to love him. I did. I loved him. And I know that he loved me. And we were both so drawn to each other, but the timing was never right for things to become ever closer than simply being close friends who enjoyed each others company and confided each others dreams. We had special moments too, moments that I swear will be etched into my mind and heart for eternity. Moments that have and will forever haunt places and poems, songs and situations because he is still in them. One of which was when he shared the brilliant news that he had received a mission call. He went on to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I wrote him for two years. I told him I was ready to date, that I was brave enough to talk about scary things like feelings. And I meant it. I was ready, but to date. He came home ready for marriage. And neither of us were willing to compromise. So when it became clear that now was not our time or place, he asked me if he could kiss me. If I could be his first kiss after returning from his mission. I obliged, this was a kiss I had dreamt of for years, that we both had waited years for. A kiss that probably had the potential to change how our situation was unfolding. But I remember nothing more of this kiss than a simple voice which said:
I later found out that when we parted ways and he said, "Goodbye," that night, he meant, "Until we meet again." But after hearing what I did, I have never exchanged a more final farewell, and I probably never will. I believe I'll eventually be reunited with the loved ones I've had to bury, but with him, we will never, ever be what we were. And I said goodbye to a big part of myself that night. I cried until I couldn't see the road driving home. I sat on the floor in my room unable to sleep a wink that night. And what made that so hard was that I decided then and there to trust the voice I had heard. I could have decided being without him was much too hard, and it was for awhile. I could have passed the voice off as a silly thought in my head. But I decided to trust it and it hurt like hell.
One of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make was believing a voice I heard inside my head and believing what I felt at a pretty critical moment in my life. When I was in grade twelve I became close to an amazing individual. In fact, I'm comfortable with saying that I even grew to love him. I did. I loved him. And I know that he loved me. And we were both so drawn to each other, but the timing was never right for things to become ever closer than simply being close friends who enjoyed each others company and confided each others dreams. We had special moments too, moments that I swear will be etched into my mind and heart for eternity. Moments that have and will forever haunt places and poems, songs and situations because he is still in them. One of which was when he shared the brilliant news that he had received a mission call. He went on to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I wrote him for two years. I told him I was ready to date, that I was brave enough to talk about scary things like feelings. And I meant it. I was ready, but to date. He came home ready for marriage. And neither of us were willing to compromise. So when it became clear that now was not our time or place, he asked me if he could kiss me. If I could be his first kiss after returning from his mission. I obliged, this was a kiss I had dreamt of for years, that we both had waited years for. A kiss that probably had the potential to change how our situation was unfolding. But I remember nothing more of this kiss than a simple voice which said:
"You're kissing someone else's husband."
I later found out that when we parted ways and he said, "Goodbye," that night, he meant, "Until we meet again." But after hearing what I did, I have never exchanged a more final farewell, and I probably never will. I believe I'll eventually be reunited with the loved ones I've had to bury, but with him, we will never, ever be what we were. And I said goodbye to a big part of myself that night. I cried until I couldn't see the road driving home. I sat on the floor in my room unable to sleep a wink that night. And what made that so hard was that I decided then and there to trust the voice I had heard. I could have decided being without him was much too hard, and it was for awhile. I could have passed the voice off as a silly thought in my head. But I decided to trust it and it hurt like hell.
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