But it also brings back memories of a wedding I never got to plan, that I didn't get to finish planning.
This post has been sitting as a draft, patiently waiting for me to have the strength to post it. And I've been slowly working up the courage to finish writing it. I've been reading it over and over again to figure out the right words. Maybe there are no right words. I shared about unrequited first love and then about the aches that never completely go away, but for a long time now I've held something so tight I could barely speak about it.
It was before I started this blog and in the first months of writing on here. Before I ever imagined sharing intensely personal things online. It was Before. Sometimes that's how I divide my life- Before Andy (name changed) and After Andy.
Andy was my best friend, my humorous half, a tender mercy straight from God to remind me that I was worth loving. And I loved him.
One beautiful night he gave me his grandmother's ring and promised me forever. We were thinking a September wedding.
Two days later he deployed. A few months later I was sitting on the couch in my apartment and I got a knock on my door. I can still remember all these stupid details like the book I was half reading while daydreaming, or the email sitting on my computer screen, and the song that was playing. Opening the door, two men stood there and I knew before they even said anything. He wasn't coming home.
In retrospect, it's odd that I can remember all those irrelevant details before opening the door but after that everything went black. I didn't pass out, but I don't remember what all was said. I could breathe but I couldn't find my heartbeat. Almost as if my heart stilled before shattering.
There are days after that I don't remember.
Entire weeks where I only have a handful of memories.
Other situations in my family were happening and I'm embarrassed to admit that I was so angry at all of those things, I had kept Andy to myself, only briefly mentioning I was dating someone. And then he was gone. There were so many regrets- that I didn't get to introduce him to my family, that we didn't take more pictures, etc,etc.
I know I will see Andy again. I know he is watching over me and cheering me on. But I miss him. I carry his Marine ring in my purse and when it hurts a lot, I take it out to hold against my heart. I am grateful every day for what he taught me and how he loved me. He reminded me that I do deserve that kind of relationship, that kind of respect and love. They say some people come into our lives and leave footprints on our heart- Andy came into my life and took my heart with him.
Throughout my mission, Heavenly Father gave me a new heart and filled it with so much love for the gospel and the people in Houston. Coming home, very real fear surfaced about being able to move on and love again. I wrote this to several companions from the mission before going on the first date after coming home: "But I was scared out of mind, because this meant moving on, getting serious about making a future for myself. It was easy on the mission to get wrapped up in the work, to focus on just working hard and being obedient today. And while the mission healed me tremendously, coming home and putting it into action still makes me scared out of my mind. It means I'm really letting him go."
It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes, " Because in the end you can't always choose what (or who) to keep. You can only choose how you let it go."
There is so much I haven't said and I'm sure I could go on and on now that's I've opened this subject. I could tell you all about him and why I loved him. I could tell you how I've learned to cope. But I can't. The words won't come yet. Maybe another day I can share more, but for today this is enough.
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