Anatomy of Grief

So this is what grief feels like, I told myself as I woke up today. My mind felt heavy and my eyes were tired from all the crying. I had five hours of sleep in the past 48 hours and yet, I couldn't go back to rest.

M and I ended our relationship last night. He no longer wanted to make it work. I asked, reasoned, cajoled, begged, pleaded. He was firm. He wanted out.

My eyes were tearing up while I was on the train going to work. Okay, I told myself. Here comes the first wave. I went to a corner of the station and cried as people rushed to the exit.

I was glad it is a Monday and I had work. I needed something to do, something to keep my mind busy. Or else it would have been unbearable. The pain, that is.

Pain. It's familiar, like an old friend that comes to visit once in a while. I had thought we had said our final farewells. I thought M was the one. I thought I would never walk this road again.

But here I am. There is nothing I can do but move forward. I will not stand still. I will not look back.

A friend of mine once told me that she likes the Bible because the stories are metaphorical. She cited the story of Sodom and Gomorrah where Lot's wife looked back longingly at the city, and becomes a pillar of salt.

Leaving a relationship is like that, she says. You leave and never look back. Because if you do, you will see and remember all the beautiful things you shared with your partner. The countless joys, the love that was shared. Then it becomes harder to move on. So what do you do? You move forward and stare straight into the future, no matter how bleak or sad or dreary it may seem. You embrace the future and leave the past behind.