Losing Someone Who's Still Alive

Losing someone who is still alive is a heartbreaking thing. You know they're right there. Right there in that country, that city, that apartment or house. You could start the car and go there. You could get on a plane and turn up on their doorstep. But you don't. And you can't. The reasons can be many why you've lost that person. They can be small insignificant reasons piled up so they ended up tipping the scale anyway. It can be one big reason. It's strange, because you could call them up, but it wouldn't do any good. It might only do bad. As you go about your life the memories become polished. They become the pictures where you smiled and laughed together. As the memories get brighter you feel the urge to reach out towards the person you lost. But deep down you know you won't hear the words you so desperately need to hear and you're reaching out for a fantasy of what could have been had things been different. Had you been different. Had they been different. Maybe you parted as friends, as neutrals or as enemies. The thing is, you parted and an invisible line has been drawn that you do not reach across. You stand on either side of the line, living your lives parallel to each other but making sure they never touch. It's an unwritten rule you both signed the day you parted. You wish them the best. You're wishing that the best could have meant you were still in their lives but circumstance wouldn't have it that way. It's a heartbreak you get to know very well but that you have to put in a box that you only visit rarely. You have to do this for your own good. You also have to do this for the loved one you parted with. You have to move on as you would have done with someone who no longer lived. You will grieve and it will take time. But time is the word to notice here. Time can do many things. It might tip the scale and blur the reasons why. Hope for it but don't count on it. Cause time is as tricky as it is healing.