Memories

As I sit down at the computer, an old familiar song comes on the stereo. Bittersweet, so bittersweet. A flood of memories come back. This particular artist, this particular song, they are a different time a place. Fall in Napa on my birthday, sipping wine outside watching the vineyards in different colors. Happy couples laughing as they enjoy each others company. Setting sun streaming through the trees turning the air into soft colors of gold and yellow. Feeling happy and content, in a pretend world. It is Capitola and a proposal, it is cigars and friends sitting around for hours. A dart board and dinner on a Wednesday night. Leaning over the car armrest for a kiss. It is our last happy memory.
As I think back, I remember how enraptured I was in those moments. I remember thinking I hoped the moment would never end. Pretending, for just a second, it could always be like this. Not wanting to get up from that spot, knowing that if I turned away for just an instant, the moment would pass like a burst bubble.
I wonder, did I always know? Was that sinking in the pit of my stomach not fear, but a touch of clairvoyance? This knot in my throat tells me, maybe, just maybe I always knew. The fairytale I had created, and molded from dry clay was just that, a fairytale.
I sit here, at 2am, letting the music wash over me. I let it take me back to those times, those dreams, those intimate moments, however false they were. You see, the thing is, they weren't false at the time. They were true, and beautiful, and for tonight, for this 4 minute song, I grieve. I grieve like it happened yesterday, like a death has occurred.
I have spent so much time defending my choice, it seems there hasn't been much room for grief. It would seem the question would be, if I left, why would I grieve? It hurts so much to remember what someones actions stole from me. Like the bubble that burst, the dreams it was holding fell to the floor and crashed like the wine glasses we bought in Napa. The warmth of the person you loved sleeping next to you stolen. The quiet nights of comfort and peace knowing you were with someone that cared, stolen. Safety, security, peace... stolen. Coming in out of the rain to a fire and a soft love to fall into, stolen. The fairytale...stolen.
However ill-gotten, however empty, the love I thought I had, pulled out from under me like a cheap rug in a bad magic show. All the love I gave, the hope I poured in, the energy, the belief, the encouragement, the times I fought tooth and nail against everyone that disapproved, gone. Vanished like it never mattered. Yes I grieve, I miss my husband. As much as I don't ever want to be his wife again for all the pain he caused, I miss being his wife, I miss loving him. I miss even the minuscule amount of love he gave me.
It hurts that an overplayed song can do this, but sometimes, in the late moments, I break. When no one is around to censor and ask why, I break. I am caught off guard, and in the moment, all I can do is let the grief consume.