Not that long ago, I wrote the words “how can I make a choice that devastates me?” What a concept, a species so hellbent on self preservation making decisions that feel like little deaths. In these pockets of life when we can stay the same, we want for more. We leave comfortable places for treacherous roads in the hope that they lead somewhere even more wonderful. And so it seems that being at the top of the food chain has made us less content with just being safe, just being comfortable. So much less afraid of suffering that we choose it. 

So self preservation is no longer our strong suit. We’ve become a race of gamblers. We put it all on the line for the promise of more. For growth, for love, for the most happiness we can all feel. In good faith, we lay down our hearts as collateral just as soon as they’ve been stitched up again. It’s nothing more than a bet, with the best of intentions and a good dose of intuition. That it will all work out, that we’ll all thrive. With my heart as collateral, I accept the terms of the house; the full blame for having made this call. I bear the brunt of pawning the moment for a better future. Because my lack of self preservation ultimately stems from the hope that everyone I love can be spared of any pain for as long as I love them.

But perhaps we’re the fortunate ones, the ones who get to choose when we say goodbye. Blighted with an ever-sticking self-reproach but never having to be blindsided by our grief. Those of us who pick the times when we part, who can prepare for it, who can console themselves with the knowledge that our love is still out there in the world, wandering around.

Last time I said goodbye, I was not so lucky. “I have a feeling I will feel her joyous energy around me for the rest of my life” was what I wrote. And I feel that now. It’s not a spirit that can be tempered, it’s not a presence one easily forgets. I will be filling in the space she used to occupy forever. I take some pride in knowing that she is the light that she became because we were together. Some pride and some gratitude. Seven years is not nothing and we are both different because of it.