Flowers Yesterday, Silence Today, Me Tomorrow

There are endings that arrive with conversations, tears, explanations, and closure. And then there are endings that arrive the way a storm does — sudden, unannounced, and indifferent to the damage left behind.

Scrolling on a Friday evening, I notice the cover change, the picture change, and then the status change. No conversation. No phone call. No explanation. Three and a half years later — after walking out of every hell smiling — we end through digital erasure. I asked myself if that is how we say goodbye. We fought, we disagreed, we faced harder and more painful topics than any other couple in infancy do.

Raw emotion. A surreal feeling. What was our last conversation? What did I say? I looked again to make sure I saw the status change correctly. Yesterday I got flowers with the cutest note. Today I am no longer in a relationship. Do we ever grow up? At that moment, I became a 16‑year‑old girl again.

The last 48 hours have been cruel.

You find a song and play it over and over again.

You lose your friend, your lover, your partner.

You lose the promises.

You lose the future of what was meant - our final chapter growing old together.

It’s funny how instantly your body reacts — you cannot stomach food, floods of uncontrollable tears, and the urge to sink into nothingness. And that is only the very beginning. Overthinking. The sleepless night. The morning when you wake up tired and cried out. You scroll through every social media platform searching to see if he changed his mind.

Then your best friends step in with anger, ready to lynch the person who made you cry — making you smile through the pain. People may have 1500 Facebook friends; I have two - my "holistic" healer and my big sister. You find your Creed album, your tissues, and cry it out. Finally, a few melatonin later, sleep creeps in.

Day Two: you wake up with a little smile from a better sleep.

A morning class of meditation.

Your stomach finally accepts a little food.

A long massage. And then the tears again.

Because you want to feel chosen.

You want to feel like you were something special.

Like the love was real.

Like the promises were real.

Like the experience was real.

I guess not — because the little girl is just a girl.

On our very first date, we set the rules. I said, “I’m 44, and I cannot deal with heartbreak again and I don't do drama.”  I have been single for 15 years. I healed. I unpacked failed relationships. I dated to find out what I wanted in a man: fun, smart, and kind. Simple — but try finding all three in one guy.

We pretend.

We want what looks great.

We try hard to show up as that person.

We try to match energies.

We talk but we hope the non-negotiables will find their way into conversations.

Life is funny. I am the exact version of the little girl. Quiet. Independent. Not needing anything. Free‑spirited. As my father always said I have an answer for everything. I am a wanderer and an adventurer. I believe life is meant to be experienced. I am fussy — I like my food a certain way. I like an intimate tribe of people. I like quiet days with books, deep conversation, and a great bottle of wine. You knew this.

What a woman of 47 wants is simple: to be chosen, to be fought for. When you take a knee and place the third ring — a Cartier, locked in love — symbolic, unplanned, raw. Yes, she paused, only because she wanted to know how soon. But her heart said yes the day you walked in and said, “This is how it will be — I will love you and you will love me.”

We were both learning to compromise.

How to love without sacrificing each others dreams.

Long distance is not abandonment; it is a chapter in a story of being parents whilst young adults are deciding their paths.

You expected the final version of us whilst I was still enjoying creating the journey with you.

I understand the sacrifice we both made, giving up physical presences for moments of time. I guess my naivety in true love and my belief that the Destiny is always fair in rewarding sacrifice.

I do not feel anger.

I feel sadness — for the love you chose to walk away from.

Sadness for the goodbye I never got.

Sadness that when I held your hand through your most painful moments, you let mine go.

Tears wash the soul and help us heal.

The after‑life of love is no longer ours, because if you cannot love me in this life you do not deserve me in the next.

Forgiveness is my gift to you. 

Love Always, 

Me.