I’m learning so much about life and what it means to be alive, as I carry our child-to-be further along. Life itself is the most beautiful thing in this whole wide world. More beautiful than the most beautiful sunset. More beautiful than the most beautiful person. More beautiful than the most beautiful place on earth. More beautiful than anything in the universe, is life. The opportunity for life. The chance to continue life. The choice to LIVE. Life is so damn beautiful. Being alive is so damn beautiful.
I’ve been through perhaps, far too much in my “short” lifetime here on earth. I’ve been damn near broken so many times. I’ve been bruised for more years than I’ve been healed. I’ve been so high, I slept on the clouds and so low, I lived beneath the Earth’s core. I’ve lived. I’ve lived. Yep, I’ve lived.
After watching Grey’s Anatomy’s funeral episode of Derek’s passing (you know how much I looooovvvveee Grey’s), this life thing clicked. It all made sense. As I like to say (borrowed from ‘Despicable Me’), I had a ‘light bulb.’ The light in my head finally stopped flickering and flashing off and on. As if it wasn’t put in all the way before, but now it’s fixed. The light became solid. Bright and solid. Perfectly in place. And it all made sense. It all makes sense. This life thing, that is. You and I. Most of all, this beautiful prospect of life growing within me.
I was angry with you for leaving. I was beyond hurt. I was devastated. I didn’t understand how you could break all those promises you made. The promises you made us. I couldn’t understand. I didn’t want to understand. I wanted to stay mad. For myself, perhaps. Especially though, for her. For the one you helped “create” and then left. I’ve been so sad, since you walked away. I’ve been holding my breath. Even though, you always used to tell me that I need to breathe. I just need to breathe.
Now, here I stand, without you. Making sense of the mess you left me with. Digging through the debris. Picking up our broken pieces. The pieces needed to build a solid and indestructible foundation for our littler butter bean. She’s mine, of course. She’s also yours too, though.
That Grey’s episode taught me a lot about love and life. Moving on, past the hurt and pain. Making due and plus some, with all that’s left, when it seems all has been lost. How to manage when the carousel never stops turning. How to get off. To start over. Anew. Brand spanking new.
You see, I won’t and don’t apologize for being upset with you. For cursing your behind out. For giving you the cold shoulder, even though you’re too far gone to probably even notice or know. For not allowing myself to fully forgive, the way I know better. For not applying my Godly love, to my human pain and disappointment. I won’t apologize because I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry, not because you deserve my hurt and anger. Not because you deserve to be shamed and damned. Not because you aren’t worth forgiveness.
I’m not sorry because I love you. Forever and ever. I love you to pieces. So, apologizing for cursing you out would be apologizing for loving you. Apologizing for being hurt, angry and gravely confused, would be apologizing for giving love a chance with you. I realize now, that that’s what life is all about. That’s what it means to be alive. To have another shot. To still have breath in you. It means giving love a chance. Because there truly is no life without love. There’s just void and emptiness. Fear. Running. Chasing. Falling and never getting up. That’s life without love.
So, I will not apologize for loving you. Nor will I apologize for being hurt by you. Instead, I will say thank you. Thank you to you, my heart and soul. I love you soooo much. I always will. Forever and ever. You taught me so much about life. About living. About what it means to be alive. About breathing. Because what is life without breath? Without breathing? It is nothing, I tell you. Nothing at all. Thanks to you, I know that now. I know about living and breathing. Something I thought I was doing for 25 years. I just learned how to do it. Because of you.
We took a chance at love. We both taught one another how to breathe. Perhaps, for the first time. Perhaps, again. Because of one another, we breathed for at least once in our life. And now, as I get closer to the reveal of the greatest gift God has ever bestowed upon me, I can’t imagine how this would have been possible without you. How I would have been strong enough, if it were not for you. Your weakness, made me stronger. Your poor choices, made me wiser. Your checking out, made me check in. Your absence, made me present.
You loved me when I was too broken to fully love myself. You saw in me, what I could never imagine possible. You dreamed for me, when I was too blind to envision. I asked myself, who could love a person so broken? Except perhaps, a person who is just as, if not more broken. I told my mom earlier, that I understand how broken love works now. I understand how two people could love one another so damn much, it hurts to breath, and still be so damn bad for one another. How people could love one another to the brink of nothingness. Until they become destructive to one another. Until they began to break each other down, instead of building one another up. I understand it now.
Broken love is a stepping stone. You were my stepping stone. I was your stepping stone. When no one could see past our scars and brokeness, we kissed and mended one another’s wounds. We nursed each other back to health. Back to life. We put oxygen into each other’s lungs. We gave one another breath. Like you always said to me, ‘you’re like coming up for fresh air. You’re like a breath of fresh air.’ We were one another’s air, when there was none left. Like a paramedic or a doctor, saving a patient. You saved me, when no one else could. And I saved you, when no one else would.
So, like all good doctors, we needed to admire our amazing work. Our miracle of restoring life to one another, through only His grace. Say our praises and congrats. And most importantly, move on. We didn’t, couldn’t and wouldn’t understand that. So, we started to break each other down. Hoping to find a reason to stay together. A reason to be needed by one another again. Because that’s all we were purposed to serve for one another. As a lifeline. Once the lifeline is up, it’s up. You say your thanksgiving and move on.
When I couldn’t move on and couldn’t push you away. When you couldn’t stay and be more than what you were. Be what I needed. What our little angel needed. You left. Or maybe, you were always gone. I’m not sure. I just know that on your way through life, you stopped by to love me. To save me. To heal me. To put life in me. To put breath in my lungs. And now, just as smoothly as you appeared, you’re gone again. But only a part of you. Because your spirit lives inside of me. Literally.
I keep working on fixing and mending broken ends, before it’s too late. I can’t bear another loss like that. I can’t let the sun go down, without anyone and everyone on this wide, green earth not knowing how much I love them. No matter how upset, hurt, disappointed, confused, scared or God knows what else I am. Love conquers all. My love conquers all. And I love you. I love you. I LOVE YOU!! So, while I have time to say it. While I still have breath in my lungs. While I am still alive. I want you to know that I forgive you. I need you to know that I love you. Most importantly, I beg you to know that it’s okay.
I feel in my heart and soul, you may never “come back.” That you may never reappear. I even consider the very real fact that I may not ever see your face again. At least not in person. I just needed to say it out loud. That it’s okay. We’re okay. And everything is going to be okay. You have not only my blessing, but my bidding to go on and live what life you have left. While you have it left. Live, my love. Live as much you can. And think of me and our budding gift, as you do. Think of the blessing you helped create. Remember that you if never before, this time, you did do something right. Perfect even. And this is only the beginning.
I remember when another one of my loves once told me, that even though my father wasn’t in my life growing up, that he did all he needed to do. He gave his sperm, his contribution of sorts, to help me get here. It was up to me to do the rest. Like a baby bird. Their parent bird gives them life. And they do the rest. They learn how to fly, from instinct and intuition. Not from being taught. The parent birds, like all animals, give their part, their portion of nurturing. It’s up to the bird to do the rest.
That’s how I feel about you. If you never come back. If you never do anything more than what you’ve already done. It’s enough. In fact, more than enough. The most important part of your contribution has been given and received. We both know very well, that I’ve been called to this motherhood thing a time or two before. Yet, it didn’t work. Four times. Four failed tries. Four heartbreaks, in their own right. Because it wasn’t time. I wasn’t ready. As a dear homie of mine likes to say, ‘Suckin’ at something is the first step to being sorta good at something.” I sucked. Truly. Because I wasn’t alive. Until you.
Then you came, and you helped me find my breath. Remember and rediscover my life. And right before you walked away, you gave me one final and indefinite reason to continue to breathe. To continue to live. Somehow, what we had and have together, was enough this time. Somehow, even though you weren’t and may never be ready, what we created was ready. And so am I. Especially, because I have something to be ready for. You did enough.
Of course you could do more. Perhaps even, you should do more. We all should. As, there’s always more to do. In all, as with all things, that’s truly between you and God. Nonetheless, you did just enough. Because she’s growing. She’s flourishing. Because God willing, she’s going to live. That wouldn’t be possible without your contribution. Without you. So, I forgive you. I pray you can forgive you too. Someday. And know that, I’ll be fine. I’ve been through far worse. And I survived. So, this too, I shall survive. I am more than a conqueror, through Him who gives me strength.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for helping me save myself. Thank you for being you. Your imperfect, sometimes dreadful, self. In all your darkness and scars, there is an amazing man under there. And he helped me earn the greatest gift God could give. So, thank you. I love you. Forever and a day.
P.S. Don’t worry about Bayyina, our testament of God. She loves you already. And she isn’t even here, yet. She’ll be amazing. The best perfection of our bests. And she’s has you to thank for that, as well. I’ll always make sure she knows, remembers and honors that. Forever and ever. God bless you, my love! God bless you!