Eat, Pray, Love

“And you have to understand how much I love your father,” she concluded.
My mother has made choices in her life, as we all must, and she is at peace with them. I
can see her peace. She did not cop out on herself. The benefits of her choices are
massive—a long, stable marriage to a man she still calls her best friend; a family that has ex-
tended now into grandchildren who adore her; a certainty in her own strength. Maybe some
things were sacrificed, and my dad made his sacrifices, too—but who amongst us lives
without sacrifice?
And the question now for me is, What are my choices to be? What do I believe that I de-
serve in this life? Where can I accept sacrifice, and where can I not? It has been so hard for
me to imagine living a life without David in it. Even just to imagine that there will never be an-
other road trip with my favorite traveling companion, that I will never again pull up at his curb
with the windows down and Springsteen playing on the radio, a lifetime supply of banter and
snacks between us, and an ocean destination looming down the highway. But how can I ac-
cept that bliss when it comes with this dark underside—bone-crushing isolation, corrosive in-
security, insidious resentment and, of course, the complete dismantling of self that inevitably
occurs when David ceases to giveth, and commences to taketh away. I can’t do it anymore.
Something about my recent joy in Naples has made me certain that I not only can find happi-
ness without David, but must. No matter how much I love him (and I do love him, in stupid ex-
cess), I have to say goodbye to this person now. And I have to make it stick.
So I write him an e-mail.
It’s November. We haven’t had any communication since July. I’d asked him not to get in
touch with me while I was traveling, knowing that my attachment to him was so strong it would
be impossible for me to focus on my journey if I were also tracking his. But now I’m entering
his life again with this e-mail.
I tell him that I hope he’s well, and I report that I am well. I make a few jokes. We always
were good with the jokes. Then I explain that I think we need to put an end to this relationship
for good. That maybe it’s time to admit that it will never happen, that it should never happen.
The note isn’t overly dramatic. Lord knows we’ve had enough drama together already. I keep
it short and simple. But there’s one more thing I need to add. Holding my breath, I type, “If you
want to look for another partner in your life, of course you have nothing but my blessings.” My
hands are shaking. I sign off with love, trying to keep as cheerful a tone as possible.
I feel like I just got hit in the chest with a stick.
I don’t sleep much that night, imagining him reading my words. I run back to the Internet
café a few times throughout the next day, looking for a response. I’m trying to ignore the part
of me that is dying to find that he has replied: “COME BACK! DON’T GO! I’LL CHANGE!” I’m
trying to disregard the girl in me who would happily drop this whole grand idea of traveling