Being Icarus, part II

If there's one thing I know right now, as I stare out the window, is that she does not belong to me. She never has and never will. She will always be his.

What great arrogance it was that brought me to my knees in this empty, sacred place where we realize things that we should have seen long ago. Too little, too late to do a thing about it. I can't put back anything that's out of place anywhere but my own life. But, I struggle just to get out of bed most days.

The years showed me things, some of them unkind. They showed me I had been left behind. They showed me that no matter how hard I tried to keep up, it was impossible. I had been marked as one of the Left Behinds. It's okay. I'm well aware of this fact, and I've accepted it.

The world went on, and I grew tired and cold. My life was increasingly meaningless. She reminded me of so many things, so many wonderful things that could have been but were not. And never could be. She reminded me of a time when I seemingly had the world in my hand. 

There is great pain in me because I had to give up the one I love. I do love her still. Always will. Don't ask me how I know that. I just know. My heart found a resting place, and I don't want it back. My feelings and my will (that part of me that never gives up) have aligned. I've willed to love her for the rest of my life. I've willed to love her even in her absence. Some things are worth never letting go of. Some things are perfect, even if you never have them. 

She went on without me and lived a beautiful life, an enviable life, a perfect, idyllic life. She was in love with the man of her dreams, had two beautiful children, family, and friends who loved her. How do I know she had a perfect life? I've seen the pictures, thousands of them. I've seen the look in her eyes -- absolute adoration and tenderest of affection -- for the man holding the camera. I've seen her laugh; I've seen her smile that beautiful smile of hers. There are so many like that. There's one that's my favorite; she has a look of absolute bliss on her face, ecstasy. And I know she is absolutely, utterly in love with her husband and family. It slays me every time I see it in my mind. How I wish I was standing next to her. 

I long to give her up. I would willingly, gently release her. Ha! But in order to do that, I would have to actually have her. Bear with me. I'd love for nothing more than for her to have that back again, her beautiful family and warrior husband by her side. I want her to be happy. I want her to feel safe and secure in the happiness she had found in life because life is too short to do otherwise. 

This man got the girl. He got this beautiful, precious, gem of a woman whom he mistreated and neglected and abused in various ways. He took her for granted. He took things from her she may never get back. And those things she will never be able to give another man. This is the man who has beaten me, beaten me in every conceivable way. He beat me 22 years ago for her affection, which, strangely enough, I didn't even know I was competing for. But, as I sit here and face an unknown future, I see that he has beaten me all those years in between as well. Not only that, but he continues to beat me at this moment. There is sad irony permeating all of this, of course. I'm not a competitive person. Perhaps I should be. I've never wanted what another man has. And I've never been possessive or jealous. Clearly, I've found myself to be something other than what I was. My confidence is gone. But that may not be a bad thing. It will allow me to move on.

Her husband was the perfect foil to her loving, caring, giving ways. I don't doubt he loved her, but he took as much as she would give. But, he's also extremely gifted in dealing with "wrong way" kids. He's a coach, a mentor. He loves his children as any father should. He's brave, he's strong, he's built like a brick wall. He would fight for his family; any day he would throw down. But, sadly, what destroyed his family was in him, and he wasn't equipped to deal with that. None of us seem to be. 

I want to lay my hands on this man and to gift him with the things that are in me that could reverse all of this and put his life and his family's lives back together. I would change his heart and his mind. I would speak into the parts of him that he can't control and break them for the rest of time. I would give him the words that he needs to put his family back together, to bridge the gap, to mend the fences, to bind up the broken hearts, to repair the hedges so the serpent can no longer bite. I would if I only could. 

Love is a funny thing. Sometimes it comes when you don't expect it. And, sometimes it stays long after someone is gone, a permanent reminder of what you've lost. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. It's always a blessing when it comes but is often a curse when it leaves. 

Being Icarus is wanting too much, flying too close to the sun. As your wings melt and you falter and fall to the earth, you have enough time to realize your great error. But there is nothing you can do about it. You loved what you should not have loved, and now you will pay the price. 

The sad thing is, I would do it all again. In a heartbeat.