Tag: grief

Sitting here, in 10B, watching the city of my dreams shrink beneath me, I have no choice but to sit with my thoughts. 

Ironically, my flight is rerouted through your city because of the weather. 

After a week in New York, where I thought all thoughts of you would fade, I boarded this plane a little more heartbroken than when I arrived.

To think that you and I ultimately did not work out because I might one day live in this dream city of mine.

Not because of something dramatic or unforgivable, but simply because of what neither of us could give up. That would be too easy.

Throughout this trip, I saw love and laughter. Places you’d admire and things you’d laugh at. 

Other times, I swore I could hear your laugh or picture your reaction to something small.

In the mornings, as I brushed my teeth listening to the life in the house around me, I thought of you brushing yours next to me- still groggy, playfully intruding.

Instead, I stood alone at the sink, finishing my routine inside the reality where I don’t know where you are or what your mornings look like anymore.

We went for coffee. I spotted something you would love.

I didn’t order it.

I watched my best friends laugh into each other, bodies leaning as instinct. I thought about how it once felt to be folded into you like that.

Selfishly, I wished it were me.

I was alone in New York

I reminded myself of my dreams and your needs. Of how I couldn’t be who you needed. I thought about everything this city might offer me, everything I haven’t seen yet.

And then I thought about you anyway.

About the fun we had. The love we shared. The fights. The words we shouldn’t have said. The way you made me feel- both love and hurt.

I was alone in New York

During my week in the city, I sat and watched. One of the first things you ever noticed about me was that I’m a people watcher.

You were right.

I watched people alone and people together. People running, people lingering, people so young and others well lived.

I wondered what had shaped them, what they’d lost, what they’d chosen.

I wondered if they’d been heartbroken before. If it gets easier. If anyone ever feels certain.

Eventually, my thoughts wandered back to you. What were doing? Where were you? What you might say if you sat beside me on that bench.

You didn’t.

I was alone in New York

The food was incredible. Endless plates, every kind of cuisine. We shared bites, laughed about how full we were, and kept eating anyway.

I caught myself thinking about what you’d like and what you’d refuse to try. How we’d argue who got the last bite.

You’d tease me for having yet another Diet Coke. I’d roll my eyes.

I remembered how we used to leave anywhere, any event, just to find food to share late at night.

I had the last bite 

I was alone in New York

I watched my best friend spin through crosswalks, quietly cared for. Extra eyes on the subway, kisses on corners, and photos with a view.

I won’t pretend I wasn’t envious. I wanted to be the one asking for a picture with my person in my favorite place.

Instead, I held the phone.

The week was good. It really was. Fun was had. Memories were made. I was grateful, deeply.

But my heart felt heavier than it ever has on a trip, making even joy feel like something I had to carry.

I was in New York, just not in the way I once imagined.

I was alone in New York.

On our last day, luggage in hand, a boy ran across the sidewalk. He picked up a girl and spun her around like in the movies. I too wish I was kidding. She laughed, arms locked around his neck as kisses flooded her face and neck.

You could hear him say how much he missed her.

Why couldn’t we have been that?

I was selfish in this moment. I didn’t know their story. I don’t know what they’ve endured or how long it has been since their last hug.

Still, my envy curdled into anger. Then sadness.

I let myself feel it.

After delays and reroutes, the fastest way home was through your city- a place I’ve avoided since you. I took the coincidence personally, as if the universe was checking to see if I’d healed yet.

I hadn’t.

Now it’s 11 p.m., seat 10B, flying away from New York, a city I love, carrying thoughts of what we were and what we won’t be.

Not because either of us failed.

Just because our paths didn’t bend.

I can’t give up this city. I can’t give up what it might give me, or who I might become here. That doesn’t make me brave. It doesn’t make me cruel.

It just makes it my choice.

My father once told me that you can’t be alone in this world if you have even one person in it who loves you.

You should know, you’ll never be alone as long as I’m in it.

But tonight, at 11 p.m., in seat 10B, I feel alone, but loved enough to keep going,

and still choosing New York