“There is a time for departure, even when there’s no certain place to go.” ~ Tennessee Williams
Tennessee Williams is one of my favorite writers.
The way he describes the bittersweet feeling of goodbye cuts through my heart like a knife. To me, these words say something about the power of letting go and the courage it takes to let love fly, even if we don’t know where it may take us.
Three years of dreams woven together, countless stolen glances, and laughter that echoed through the corners of my soul. She was the one who made me realize that I wanted a home—not in the physical sense, but a place where my heart belonged, with a wife and children who would be the center of my universe.
Our journey was not without its creases. Like many, we had our share of stormy days. After parting ways more than once, we found ourselves gravitating back to each other again and again. It was like the universe had conspired for our paths to cross. We agreed to be “friends,” but my heart knew it wanted more.
Love is a funny thing; it makes you realize how paper-thin the line is between holding on and letting go. My heart yearns for her, yet, lately, I’ve felt like a ship drifting away from the lighthouse guiding its way in the night. As the wind rustled through my sails, I could feel that it was time to part for good.
Our conversations dwindled, and so did the certitude in her voice. She needed time to heal from the wounds of the past, she said. I understood, but somewhere in the recesses of my heart, I questioned: Was there still a place for me in her tomorrow?
Life is an endless series of choices, but sometimes it felt like she was standing at a crossroads, unable to take a step in any direction. That indecision cast shadows on my mental peace. As someone wise once said, “If it’s not a hell yes, then it’s a no.” Actually, I think I heard that kernel of truth on “The Ultimatum: Queer Love,” but I still couldn’t agree more. There is grace in someone choosing you wholeheartedly. But when the echoes of silence and ambiguity replace the words of love, one must accept that the universe does not want this particular story to be written.
Saying goodbye is not an act of defeat. It’s an act of self-love and preservation. It’s an acknowledgment that our hearts deserve clarity, commitment, and peace. My love for her will always be a part of me, but I realize that sometimes the most loving thing we can do for ourselves is to create the distance needed for healing and growth.
So many times, I’ve failed to do that for myself and it’s a lesson I’m learning the hard way. But now I find comfort in the thought that there’s always something beautiful waiting at the end of every goodbye—an understanding that love doesn’t have to be possessive or limiting. Our hearts may still yearn for each other, but we are both worthy of being loved with fervor and without condition.
My advice to anyone in a similar situation is this: Listen to your heart but do not silence your mind. Reflect on what you truly deserve, and do not settle for maybes in a world where certainties do exist. There is bravery in acknowledging when the final pages of a story have been written.
As I bid farewell to this chapter, I embrace the unknown. I believe that in nurturing our own well-being, we open doors to a love that reciprocates with the same intensity and certainty. Today, I say goodbye. Tomorrow, I step into the dawn of endless possibilities, knowing that somewhere down the line, paths crossed will lead to roads untraveled.
“The doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious. If you have a deep scar, that is a door, if you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door. If you yearn for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life, that is a door.” ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estés