‘Twas a lovely night with the girls. Haven’t seen them in over a month. ‘A’ just got back from her family holiday and she gathered the girls over a sumptuous kare-kare dinner at her place. ‘B’ and ‘C’ were buzzing around the kitchen while the kare-kare simmers over the gas stove. ‘D’ rushed to open the yellow main door as soon as I rang the bell. We catch up tonight despite the hustle and bustle of our lives; spicing things up with a drizzle of the latest gossip about ourselves or someone else’s.
Single ladies live for these moments. I hear my married friends (especially those with little ones) yearn to go back to some girls’ night in (or out). Very few are privileged to have one once in a while. ‘A’ is married but she makes that happen.
“We broke up,” I blurted out of the blue.
I could imagine the busy kitchen muted in a heartbeat and the activities wind down into a slo mo movie scene. Yes, that was just my imagination. Business went on as usual. My girlfriends reacted as if my news flash is just something that always happens to anyone and everyone everyday; which, in fairness, is true. It is just normal. Some times you win, some times you lose. This time I lost and my friends didn’t hover over my loss. And I love them for that.
I have been nursing my broken heart like it was the only thing that mattered in the whole wide world. I wanted to be married someday yet I find myself back to square one again. Hope deferred has made my heart sick. I wanted to hide. I did not intend for my closest friends to know the depth of my loss just yet. I am not ready to take on the questions or to analyse what might have gone wrong. I am exhausted just replaying scenes in my head, wallowing over what I could have done differently.
That night, though, I reasoned that there is more to me to focus on than my failed love life. And so I chose not to elaborate too much, not to show my pain so I could somehow will my leg to step forward.
“Did you cry?” ‘D’ asked curiously. I must have seemed so detached while telling my story.
I did cry. But I wasn’t as surprised that it ended the way it did. Or, perhaps, at the back of my mind I justify that since this isn’t the first time I now instinctively know how to pick up and dust off myself, then move on. Uhm, too much pep talk going on in my head. But the truth is, I went through that phase where I suddenly stop and burst into tears just because in a split-second something reminded me of the good old days with him. I guess the most painful part is accepting that the dream I almost had slipped away. I surely thought he was ‘The One’. Now I have to accept he isn’t.
Nothing comforted me these days more than a whisper of a short prayer so I could remember what matters most in this life.
That life is like a wheel. Sometimes you’re up, sometimes you’re down.
That life has its seasons. One season ends and another one starts.
That life in itself is a promise. I have to believe there’s a new hope that I can wake up to every morning.
So, I will myself to move on. I tread on despite the nagging question hovering over my head:
‘Will my hope ever come to fruition?’
As difficult as it could be, I had to muster my resolve to get to the state where I should be; whatever that state may look like. I have to believe that I will get there… one day.
Habakkuk 3:17 – 18
17Though the fig tree should not blossom And there be no fruit on the vines, Though the yield of the olive should fail And the fields produce no food, Though the flock should be cut off from the fold And there be no cattle in the stalls, 18Yet I will exult in the LORD, I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.
bliss be with you! 