My slow yet impending departure is signified by barren walls, a disassembled bookcase, and suitcases in various stages of fullness strewn about the room. Adventure awaits, and yet I am in mourning.
Often, moving is a hassle; nothing that would resemble bereavement. And while I love my pink room and this beautiful house, I have much to look forward to, and I truly do look forward to the future, yet a part of my heart is a lead anchor. I do not want to go, but as I once read: “nothing gold can stay.”
I am equally familiar with both criticism and praise (though, of course, I prefer the latter). The former, delivered to my face, usually falls within one of these categories:
- hard to read
Imagine hearing these descriptors and living them, believing them, eventually using them as a safety blanket to avoid getting close to people. And then imagine living with one of the most delightful, kind, generous, light-hearted, joyous people on the planet. My self-defenses were no match for Roomie’s grace.
I mourn the intimacy of the heart I have earned over the last (almost) three years. I mourn that we will never again be so close as we are now. I am so blessed to have grown as a person as much as I have here. My hard edge smoothed. My hot temper dampened (I think the longest I’ve been able to be mad at Roomie is about 5 minutes). My BS continuously called out. I treasure the honesty he brought out in me — the endlessly wide and deep truth I lived and shared here. I have never before experienced such openness, and I am so grateful to be known as he knows me. To be seen for who I am, who I was, and who I will be, without prejudice or preconceived notions, without expectation. Just to be seen and to be cared about. To see past the hard exterior to the soft under belly. As one of my favorite song lyrics goes: “deep inside, I’m not as tough as I seem.” To see and know and like and encourage this part of me… well, I cherish that more than I ever thought I would.
I’ve learned a lot here, and I know it’s time to go. It’s time for both of us. And it’s okay that I will miss having Roomie as the person I share every moment of my day with, our successes and failures, our joys and sadness. And I will miss having him as the last person I talk to each night. But I will carry forward the beauty of our friendship; I am a better friend because of you.