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2024-04-24 03:57:38
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 | Closure
entry by Path Walker
8/10/2006 3:50 PM
| Yesterday, I moved out of the apartment for good. Sent Ana a text message letting her know the place was completely hers now. She sent back, "Thanks for understanding. This is what I've wanted. Good luck."
Yeah. I'll need it.
I couldn't see it at the time, but this is what she'd wanted since January when she'd first asked me for a little space, a little time alone. I couldn't give in to that request because I was afraid. Over the 7+ months in between then and now, I've given myself nothing to be afraid of any longer; I pushed her away completely by being... well, I'll spare you my scathing assessment of myself and my conduct over the past several weeks.
So I'm homeless... again. I've probably mentioned this here elsewhere, but when Ana and I first started seeing each other, I'd moved out of an apartment and wound up living in my truck for about 6 months. At the time it felt great, mainly because I always had somewhere to go and I had next to no expenses. Friends would have me over, Ana would have me over, I got to live life instead of hide in an apartment all the time.
This time around, in a fantastic twist of irony that would make any writer gasp in awe, it's the very woman I left for Ana that's putting me up until I find a new place: my ex-wife.
It's no big secret that Ana was partly the cause of my leaving my wife (and daughter) and though I'm not proud of having left them for Ana, I'm man enough to admit responsibility for my actions instead of hiding them in my past. If anyone asked, I'd readily tell them anything about me. I just don't believe in secrets - mine or anyone else's. They've proven to be too damned destructive to be any good, so why keep them? It just doesn't make sense to me.
My daughter is loving having me around more often, like I should've been over the past 11 years of her life. This afternoon we're looking forward to practicing some archery, and this weekend we're going to see "Zoom" and probably camp out in her back yard (her mom's a little skittish of having her come up into the mountains with me - a little too far away if Sierra suddenly freaks and wants to go home, even though I know that she won't). I'll take what I can get.
But I'm not entirely happy. After all that this was the closure, the finality I was looking for, it's not the outcome I was hoping for. Somewhere in my mind, my heart, and my soul, I know somehow that things could have worked between Ana and I. I know it because I can see it, now, too late. I can see how opening our eyes to what was going on with us and taking the time to put forth a little effort to change would have set everything on a better path.
But, as I've so aptly learned, everything happens for a reason. So I suppose that in the end we weren't meant to be together, but we were meant to learn from each other and our time together. And I have learned.
I've learned not to share. (There's more to that, but I'll spare the details.)
I've learned to respect, appreciate, and love all the time, not just when it's convenient for me.
I've learned to see past my own desires, even though I thought I always did; and therein I've learned that I never did before.
I've learned to listen, to watch, to pay attention more closely, to see what's right in front of me and not focus on the distant future. In the end, the present moment's all we've got and we have to make the most of it.
I couldn't bring myself to cry about it, though. Even after she admitted that it was what she'd been wanting. I couldn't break down the way I'd wanted to, the way I'd done before, where my mouth hangs open in obvious anguish but I'm in so much pain that no sound comes out at all. Guess it's not time for that yet. But I've been told it'll come; it'll hit me. I was told that it probably won't happen for a few weeks yet, but it'll happen.
Oh, yippee...
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