Saturday, January 20, 2007

Swollen Eyes

There's been a lot going on in my life recently, as I mentioned in a previous post. The Ex and I decided to call it quits after a long discussion about the future which revealed that we didn't really have the same plans. I'd like to move closer to my family - and I have the freedom to do that without changing jobs at my company, since we have offices in every state - and he wants to stay in Southern California. I'm not sure when I want to have kids; he thinks he'd end up being a stay at home dad because I'm overcommitted to my job. At any rate, we made a decision that we weren't getting married and I moved out in December, shortly before his father Romeo died.

Yes, I left my boyfriend while his father was dying of cancer. Not only that, but his father was like the father I never had - he made me feel loved, and safe, and special. For the sake of not making things worse, we, or rather the Ex, made the decision not to tell his family that we'd separated. We went through the Masses and the funeral and the family gatherings pretending we were still together. I can't say I regret it, exactly; I still love him, I wanted to be there for him and his family, and I desperately needed to be around people who understood the pain I was experiencing.

But as the weeks passed, I started to wonder what would happen. I've been in a similar situation before - a breakup that's really a fakeup, where two people still spend all of their time together and do couple stuff even though they're not really together. And let me tell you, there's always one person who gets the wrong idea, who thinks everything is fine and will work out, and then that person gets hurt. What I'm saying is that I just couldn't do it; I couldn't bring myself to keep up a charade for however long the Ex expected me to do so at the risk of getting my heart broken. I decided it would be best if we just stopped seeing each other or talking to be able to get over this. It's been five days since we last talked and they have been the longest, most stomach-churning days I've had in quite some time.

To exacerbate this feeling, I watched Grey's Anatomy last night, the episode where George's dad is dying. It was like someone took a hammer and shattered my little stone heart to pieces - I started crying and I couldn't stop. I miss Romeo more than I would have thought possible. I feel like he died without knowing how much he meant to me, without me ever saying the things I should have said. He knew I was moving out - the Ex told him that in November - and I feel like he must have been so disappointed in me. It hurts like hell to think the last me he knew was the girl who left his son, not his second daughter, as he always called me.

And yet who could I talk to? Not the Ex, nor anyone in his family. Not my family - how could they understand that there's someone else I think of as my father? I called Tita, and thank God I did, because there is no one wiser, kinder, funnier, or more loving. I went from crying to laughing and back, and by the end of the call, I was at peace. I can't change the past; I can't go back to tell Romeo all the things I should have. But I can tell Tita: I am so lucky to have you for a friend; I am so happy that I know you; and I love you like my sister. Thanks for getting me through last night.

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