Tag: adventure

51. Together but separate.

I have the absolute treat of having 3 seats to myself on a flight to Portugal. I knew I’d got the window seat when I checked in but this is a huge bonus. My travelling companion has her window seat across the isle so we’re both happy. Together but separate. Or is that separate but together. I wonder at the difference.

This is my new life. I’ve taken the chance of a cheap break. Fly out with one friend, joined by another in a couple of days, friend one flies home, friend two stays until we do our separate but together flights home. This way I get a happy medium, the too-ing and fro-ing has a ‘just popping in’ feel to it. I’m the constant. Company is good. But I’m strangely not ready to go on holiday with someone else yet.

I’m off to stay in the father-in-law’s flat he has in The Algarve. Purchased last year with no sense of irony despite having voted for Brexit. His politics aside he is a kind man, has been a source of support in so many ways over the past months, and I am often grateful for his presence downstairs. His was the heart we broke most with our news, but he has seen us start to build our new way of being and I know it helps him too.

So off I go. And I am excited. Packing was fun. I bought myself a treat of new headphones at the airport. Friend one and I tested enough perfumes to gas the plane. I’m loving the luxury of stretching out on my triple seat.

And I have my list of places that my once partner now no longer together recommends when he came to stay in February. He came to escape, to be somewhere other. He phoned last night. To hope I have a great time and to give me tips of things that he thought I’d like. A great market on Tuesday, a lovely restaurant that’s a bit hidden away, the best bit of the beach, away from people as much as possible – other people are my least favourite things when I’m away. Because he knows me well. And was a lovely thing to do. Those holidays when we take it in turns to choose the things we’d like to do, discovering hidden gems together off the beaten track, quirky places to make the exploring so worthwhile, they are all behind us. Our separate adventures stretch before us.

And it make me feel just a tiny bit sad. But a bit sad with a good tan isn’t a bad way to be.

38. Those details, all of them, add up to the end.

The nest is empty.

The daughter has left on her travels, taking her first independent steps to explore the big world out there. My feelings about that are mixed and many – and I know that’s as it should be. However difficult it is for me I wouldn’t have it any other way. And I now it’s difficult for her father too. He’s just started to build a relationship with her away from the day to day living, the arguments were stopping, things were improving, and then off she goes.

I invited him round on her last evening. Just to be on hand, around for a bit of chatting and hanging out. Not that there was much socialising with her, amid the chaos of packing and the other friends visiting there wasn’t a lot of time for just them. But they did have a few minutes of just them. I know he’s going to miss her. I know it still feels weird. For both of us.

As I was driving back from the airport I joined a massive traffic jam. Not helpful when you’re trying to keep busy and not get upset. I couldn’t help but think of all the times I had dropped the daughter off somewhere and left, having said goodbye, upset and trying hard not to show it. Her first day at nursery school I was a mess, watching her run off with total excitement. I was the same at primary school, her first holiday away with friends. I was so often hiding my upset as I watched her take on the world. It’s not my job to hold her back with my emotions, they’re just a byproduct. But all those times I had him reassuring me, and just giving me the necessary hug I needed. But this time it’s just me.

So I did as any sane person would do when stuck in traffic while feeling rather sad – I called my best friend, because when you’re fed up they’ll have some way of bringing you back. I spoke of the reassurance I missed, how the evening before had been nice, how hard it is to see him sometimes when I still can’t hug him, how moments things seem so normal when we’re talking that I forget…

And then you realise why a best friend, an ‘honest, knows you inside and out, loves you and gets you’ best friend is so important. ‘You know why you love him’ she said. ‘you know all the good things about him that made you stay and work at being together. That’s the easy bit. Now remember why you’re not together, why you finally let go. That is the important bit. Those details, all of them, add up to the end.’

It’s true. And being nice, being kind and thoughtful can sometimes hide all that. It is important to do this break up well, but just as important is to remember that it is a break up. Those times when he backed away, told me he didn’t want to be with me, wasn’t sure of wanting to stay, all those times made dents. They hurt, and those hurts added up. And while being kind sometimes, just occasionally, gets in the way of being pissed off.

And I am pissed off. This could have been an amazing time together. My business doing well, he no longer tied to school times we could have had some great adventures of our own. Instead, I wave the daughter off on an exciting life changing experience and return to a home, alone.