As the weekend closes in, so do the bittersweet feelings. 

I prepare to face the evenings and days ahead. The anticipation of wrapping up work is accompanied by glorious thoughts of relaxing and enjoying the unscheduled time that lies ahead. 

Then a wave of sadness crashes down upon me. I’m ejected into a moment of despair that sucks the air from the room; hours that at one time passed like seconds, now stretch before me like a never-ending highway. 

Friday evenings are, for many, a long, slow exhale from the week. It is the time when some clink glasses, cook an amazing spread, or have a pizza delivered, and settle into the comfort and peace that such times bring. Maybe rent a movie. Maybe get lost in music. And often, have a special someone by their side.

Pre-COVID, many may have met up with a friend (or friends), shared delicacies, and laughed into the wee hours of the night. And often, have a special someone to say good night to. 

Others may have welcomed the couch and Netflix, drifting into an early sleep, and waking up at 2:00 a.m. 

They often have a special someone by their side or special someone to text a good night before they drag themselves into the bedroom and back to sleep. 

In my wave of sadness, I don’t miss the thought of someone; I don’t long to be with just anyone or have love in my life—I miss him. 

I miss the person I thought I had been with. 

I miss the person I thought I’d spend my future with. I just miss him.

Or the him I wanted him to be. 

This sadness is not loneliness; it is the broken heart of a person who thought she’d finally found her forever love. 

No, he wasn’t perfect. But neither am I. And even now, when I am well aware of the reality and the ideal picture that I may have painted, I pray for a release. 

I pray to let go, mentally and emotionally. I want freedom from my thoughts and the Friday nights when I miss his companionship. And, maybe, the habit of him—despite the dysfunction.

I do see it for what it was. And some days, that honesty is both painful and enlightening. 

I have moments when I obsess over the day he may reach out to me.

Will I respond? 

Will I wait? 

Will I respond days later? 

Or will I be smart and respect that if this has happened three other times, it is almost guaranteed to happen again? 

Why would I welcome that probable pain and knowingly cross a bridge that was justified in being burned? 

Because I love the person. 

Because I miss that person. 

And despite knowing that my gut instincts were right, I sometimes fantasize about the dream I once had—the life I once believed in.

But today, I said no. No matter what my current or future days and nights bring, stepping back rather than letting go would only repeat a cycle. I want to say it wouldn’t and “Maybe this time…” but I know better. 

So I’ve committed to how I will spend future weekends. I’ll enjoy that Friday night that stretches ahead of me. 

I’m finding numerous ways to fill the void. 

Today I sat with the moment, let it pass, and then prepared for the future that awaits me.