You left. You stood on my front porch and said flatly,
"I'm leaving for band practice and I'm never coming back."
At that moment, I was so angry with you.
A few weeks before, we sat in my sunroom with the sun setting outside the three walls of windows and settling over us like a veil of spun gold. I asked you why you had not introduced me to your family. I asked you why you had never invited me to your house. We were engaged to be married, yet I had no idea where you lived and had never even met your parents. You launched into a monologue about past hurts, trust issues, and compartmentalization. You eventually agreed to work on being more open, more trusting and you agreed to introduce me to your parents.
Christmas season came. I remember laying in my bed with you and hesitantly asking you if you would go with me to my family's Christmas dinner. You turned to me and smiled. I never thought you would say yes, but you did. I was so happy at that moment. I felt that our relationship was progressing, deepening. All I ever wanted was to be with you. I wanted domestic bliss with you and all that that entailed.
My family adored you. You were charming. You smiled and were funny and witty. My cousin even pulled me into an unused room and asked me if you had proposed. When I told her that I had proposed to you, her eyes went wide as saucers. She laughed and hugged me. It was nice to feel accepted. It was nice to finally feel like I belonged in my own family. I felt like you had made that possible and I was so grateful. I loved you at that moment.
When I asked you a few weeks later why we had not gone to your family's Christmas dinner, you became evasive and irritated. You gave me some half-excuses. I was skeptical and hurt. I felt like you had completely forgotten our conversation about being more open, more trusting, and the introduction to your family. Then I thought that maybe you hadn't forgotten, but that you had previously told me just what I had wanted to hear because you wanted to continue our relationship without furthering your responsibilities. Then, I thought that maybe you had something to hide. Or both.
Later that night, after you had gone, I lay in bed going over and over everything I could remember that you had ever said with regard to how you felt about me, our relationship and things that had been said in arguments or discussions. I was so hurt and angry with you at that moment. So, I acted on what would be the beginning of the end of our relationship. I texted you,
"You have until the new year to introduce me to your parents. Otherwise, we're done."
I never would have thought, at that moment, that you would have retreated back into your distrust and compartmentalization.
I remember your face as you stood at my door preparing to leave. I think you were waiting for me to suddenly change my mind, to say I was wrong, to beg for forgiveness. I, however, did none of those things. I loved you at that moment, but I had to let you go. At that moment, I had to choose to love myself.
