Square One

Heartbreak can be a funny thing. Okay, not funny 'haha', but funny, odd. Heartbreak. You think you're okay. You write Blogs about being okay. You tell you're friends you're okay. You tell yourself you're okay. And then out of the blue, you can find yourself back to Square one. And you're not okay. Because Square one? Sucks.

Yesterday I found out (via an email from a family member) that the Zen-like man had surgery. The lymphoma returned. And they had to remove it. They won't know if they got it all for a few days. And last night I couldn't sleep.


Ah, you would think that I could just let this go. It doesn't have anything to do with me. I am not part of his life, nor is he part of mine. But I can't let it go. I tossed and turned all night last night...thinking, thinking, thinking. Wondering. Worrying. Thinking. I didn't sleep. At all. And because the girls are home, I knew there would be the pitter patter of little feet at 6:30am. I was right.

There' s a part of me that wants to be there for him. To bring him all of the right magazines. A beautiful flower arrangement. My smiling face. Or to be there for his father. Sit in the room with him. Pat his hand. Get the coffee. The whole bit. Because if I know one thing? It's that I am a great hospital visitor.

But then there's reality. That he broke my heart. In a punishing, cold way. Twice. And that the white car in his driveway means she's still living there, so she could be there for him. And there's no place for me with him. None.

So what is going on with me?

I don't know, but I do know I feel something. Something I can't put into words yet. Something that is making my heart hurt. Something that is nagging me. Something that I need to face.

But I can't do any of that right now. I can't do any of that. I just need to sit and think. Because this morning, I am still at Square One.

Damn. I am glad my girls are home.