The Apology

Sitting on the sofa, I’m aware of how much, and how little has changed since last being here over two years ago now. The furniture’s different, somewhat more modern, and the layout’s better; less cluttered and there is more room for manoeuvre.

There is less room for movement for me, however. Hardly any at all. I have nowhere to go, except to stare at my past in the face. A past that they cannot move on from.

I have two choices. Apologise or leave. It’s that simple, when you cut to the chase. This is impressed upon me by two people standing over me that really haven’t changed at all. Or perhaps that’s my own blinkered perspective. We all seem to be suffering from that.

So I do it.

I apologise, sincerely… from the heart.

I apologise for being who I am (or who I was, all those years ago). I apologise for loving the wrong people. I apologise on behalf of people who are no longer in my life. I apologise for the rain and for the muddy footprints in the hallway.

As tears pour down my face for the millionth time during this difficult year; a year which they will never fully understand what I, what we, have been through, just as I do not understand them, I give them the only thing I have left.

I give them what they want. Because there’s nothing left to do.

And then still… I ask him for a hug.

It’s weird, but even with the injustice I feel, I want to leave my stamp on this scene; one of warmth. One that will say, in the event that I crash my car on the way home, that I was a warm person, not a “hater”. I knew how to move on and to be the bigger person.

I knew how to love.

The hug, whilst awkward at first, is reciprocated. I gain a little strength from that.

After another difficult few minutes, through which I sniff, choke, dab my eyes and steal endless tissues, I finally make my way to leave. The time feels right and I feel that now they have finally, after two years, given me permission to move on.

I pick up my bag, kiss my kids goodbye and head for the door.

The fresh air hits me as I step into the driveway. It feels cleansing, but at the same time, I feel completely unreal. It’s like a cool breeze floating over, even through, the empty shell of what’s left of me.

And as I leave that house and drive home, a hundred questions tumble around my head….and most of them begin with “why?”

I pull into the parking space and see your silhouette through the living room window. I know you’ve been worried and I immediately feel guilty.

You see me shaking, you see my swollen eyes and bright, red nose and look so concerned. You don’t say much, but you don’t need to. You instantly know the gravity of the last few hours and don’t question me. You just hold me.

And there is so much love and acceptance in that embrace, it’s overwhelming.

It’s then that I realise, whatever it is that I left “there”, whatever little piece of my soul I gave them… it really doesn’t matter.

Because I have more. I have more strength, more soul, more love.

Because I have you.

Thank you.

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