I woke up the morning of my birthday with my phone
abuzz. Greetings and well wishes
from the loves around me. It was
supposed to be a rainy day and yet the sun followed me to work and I smiled
contently with her warmth on my cheek.
I was determined to face this new year of my life with joy, unlike so
many years past. It was time to
allow myself some peace.
The first few hours of my day passed quickly filled with
gestures of kindness and laughter.
I even silently thanked the universe for allowing me this. I thanked myself for allowing
comfort. I had worked so hard to
get where I was. I was about to
embark on a new journey and I would see my friends later to celebrate. There was much to be grateful for.
Ping went my phone.
I neglected it. I was chatting
with a coworker and I assumed it was yet another friend sending along a Happy
Birthday greeting. When I was
finally alone, I looked down at it.
It was from him. The text
was simple. All it said was ‘Happy
Birthday’. In an instant, my chest
tightened. My heart froze. My hands started shaking, tears began
to stream down my face and I could physically feel all of the color drain from
my being.
The immediate reaction I had was to respond. I knew he was still sitting there;
phone in hand, waiting to see if I would reply. I wanted some connection to him while I still had his
attention. I could see him sitting
in his living room, rereading the words he had written. Questioning if he should’ve sent
it. Questioning if he should’ve
said something more. Wondering if
he should’ve placed an X or an O at the end to attribute some affection. His mind was like mine in that
way. And then I did the only thing
I knew how to do. Nothing. Act Don’t React, Tarah, I whispered quietly to myself.
I went outside and stared into the sky. It was his way of
making his presence known. Letting
me know that he still existed. It
was his apology. Of course he
remembered my birthday. Our
birthdays were exactly a week apart and although the week prior I had agonized
over reaching out to him to acknowledge his special day, though I had spent an
hour with my therapist grappling over whether or not it was the right thing to
do, though I had countless conversations with friends, I thought the better of
it and again did the only thing I’ve come to do after all of this time. Nothing. All I could do was whisper to the Universe and hope that
they found his way to his spirit. I
wasn’t a part of his life anymore.
What would it mean to him to hear from me? Why would he care? So to save myself the torture of regret
and insecurity, I refrained.
He hadn’t done the same. But then again, he wasn’t in the same place that I was. He was him after all; he could do
whatever he wanted. That luxury
was something my soul couldn’t afford.
“I miss you.” I said to myself.
To my phone. To him. To the air. Because I did. And for as wrong as it was, it was the
truth. In that moment, I missed every wrong thing
about him.
