After more than two years, we saw each other for 10 minutes last week. I had flown to his city without his knowledge. For a coffee with him. Just a coffee. I needed to know how he is doing. And secretly hoped that something would happen that would allow me to release him. So that I can fully surrender to my life here in the Netherlands.
He said he had a busy day and texted a location. I found my way in that strange, now-known city that feels a bit like home because he lives there. I tried to prepare for our meeting. In vain. He came in and I drowned. Our eye contact must have betrayed me immediately. The greeting was colder than we both wanted. He gently led my arm to a table. Asked as soon as we were why I wanted to drink coffee with him. I lied about a friend’s visit and that, if I was there anyway, I would like to drink a coffee with him. He said he was not in the mood for that. That he has indicated that occasional contact is too painful for him. “You know what I want. I would love to sit here and talk to you for hours. ”He wants what I want. A life together. Just drinking coffee is 100 steps back.
We have not even ordered. He takes his helmet and together we walked the 200 m to his motorcycle. “Are you happy?” He asked. I lied. “I’m glad to hear that, you deserve it”. We looked at each other in front of the pedestrian crossing as long as the traffic light was red. His eyes are still burned on my retina. We hugged briefly and awkwardly and he put on his helmet. “Please don’t call me.” Less than 10 minutes after the disgust, he joined the noisy traffic. I couldn’t manage to check him.
I drank my coffee with tears. Sat for hours at the place where we meet. Hoping he would feel that and come to me.
Three more text messages followed. I let you know not to be able to cope with our explosive love. He said he would love me forever.
Everything has been said. When we see each other again, we live our lives from that moment on. The only other option is never contact again.
I’m broken. Real piece, as if my heart is shattered and hanging helpless in my chest. It is still true of love. What a task to see from here that it is possible to let go, that it is possible to heal, that it is possible to find peace.