The Weight Of Important Dates

I started going to Temazcales. It began as preparation, since I’ve decided I want to become a moon dancer. But as I kept showing up, I realized the power held in the ritual itself.

I was lucky, really lucky, to find the moon dancers here and have my first experience with them. It was a magical and beautiful ceremony. I felt deeply connected to all the women present. It set a high standard for every temazcal that came after.

Yesterday, I went to another one. And although it was powerful as temazcales always are something felt like it was missing. Maybe it was the women I had first connected with.
Maybe it was just me. Maybe it was because of the date.

Because yesterday was supposed to be different. It was the last date we had something planned together. Your nephew’s wedding.

Silly as I am, I expected you to break the silence. Silly as I am, I expected you to be like me…
Thinking about how I was supposed to be there. But of course, you didn’t.

Last night, as I came home from the ceremony and was about to go to bed, it hit me
it’s always been me. Always me who gives things meaning. Who makes moments sacred. Even you. It was what I felt for you that made you so special.

This morning, I texted a friend. Told her how tired I am. How hard I’m trying to let you go.

I understand now that I can still love you and that it’s okay. Not everyone will understand it..

The cost of loving someone for real is carrying this kind of heartbreak when the pain is the most real thing you’ve ever felt.

What’s hardest now? It’s not just letting go of us…
It’s letting go of the hope that you might show me the man I loved is still there.
That he was ever real.

That’s what consumes me. What sinks me in the quiet. The truth that breaks me open. The silence I can’t fill.

S..