Letting Go: Bay Area Edition

I saw it once before, but only once. A day much like today, the sun lightly dancing around the cool, swirling breeze – – it felt like I was being hugged tightly and being told that everything was going to be alright from here on out. I knew then, as I know now, that the struggle of acceptance would continue, but for a brief moment, the only thing that mattered was life itself. All life. All love. Enraptured in the impermeance of the feeling as the sun was setting on a moment, on a snapshot of a life I knew. I knew.

It was time to go.

The cool blades of grass gently prickling my legs, making them itch without the need to scratch, the disappearance of this days light was what brought me peace. Knowing that soon, I would be reborn. The sheer power and volume of emotion choking me up, still a tear was not shed because the love I felt near the end had never left the soul that was always left behind before. Just this time, I had no plans to return. This time, I would not carry the burden of the tiny world I lived, I would instead carry a torch for world I had left out. For far too long I defined myself by the moments I cherished, to watch it painfully set as the sun that hugged my existence now allowed me the perspective to realize what I had realized the last time: my Love is permanent, but I don’t need to be around to share it.

I cannot tell if the chills I feel are the reality setting in that this time I will not be fragmenting my heart, I will instead be taking it with me, but regardless, I still have goosebumps. To be reminded by a distant star of the finality that I now feel has been nothing short of majestic. It took the unspeakable to see the Self I had long desired, one no longer content with ignoring the voice that screamed to be let out, to accept my role, that paid attention to that which would not be spoken. What good is seeing if it is not applied to the gigantic world that lie just beyond my immediate reach? Very little.

For awhile now, I’ve been laying the crumbs of my departure: hugs that last a bit longer, patience for the menial, expression of my undying support and love for those that were open to hearing me out. Did I care that nobody had seen it or that those I told couldn’t fully grasp what I was trying to say? Certainly. Yet I was almost happy they didn’t. It made me weird, overly emotional and the person I wanted to be in their eyes. Flawed and raw, quiet and a bit scary, and suddenly gone.

This, as I’ve been doing for quite some time now, is my long goodbye. Dramatic, right?

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