When Your Love Story Doesn’t End the Way You Wrote It
Endings and beginnings
I am hunched in the fetal position, wedged into the tiny alleyway between my bed and the wall. I am sobbing uncontrollably into my phone. The phone is lying on the floor beside me. There is a minute corner of space in my brain that calmly tells me the phone is my only salvation at this point.
I wish I wasn’t so distraught right now. I wish I was the kind of woman who could move forward without a second thought. Cold and callous, baby, that’s the emotional range I’m looking for.
However, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m a small person with huge emotions.
“I can’t do this, Ashley. I can’t live without him. I don’t know how to do this on my own!” Ashley, my sister-in-law, barely makes out what I am saying due to all the hyperventilating and weeping.
“You can do this, Lindsay. You are literally one of the strongest women I know. Now, you need to breathe. Breathe with me right now.” Ashley can be very commanding when necessary, so I dutifully listen. I take a deep breath, hold it, and let it out slowly.
As I release, the notion that life will never be the same creeps over my spine.
I don’t know how many stories I’ve written about Jamie. It’s got to be in the hundreds…
