Did you ever open your eyes under the ocean? You know that salty burning feeling you get? A constant stinging under the lids?
I'm a thousand miles from the ocean, but I can't escape that feeling. There are tears just behind my eyes, waiting for an opportune moment to spring a leak.
Last night Husband and I made love for what will probably be the last time. I'd rather not share a million details on the internet, but it was bittersweet to say the least. I cried the entire time, not voluntarily, not really even consciously. I tried so hard to memorize the sensations - skin on skin, fingers in hair, mouths touching - hoping against hope to imprint the memory of his skin onto mine. I tried equally hard not to remember the hundred thousand times before this one - the first time, the times our daughters were conceived, the reunions, the partings. It was so indescribably sad for me.
I have loved this man so fiercely for so long - have sacrificed to be with him, have defended him, cried over him, screamed at him, wanted him, hated him. Never in my life have I felt such intense emotion toward another human being. How can a love that strong not be enough? How can it not be enough?
There's more. I'm ovulating. And for one brief moment, I prayed that a miracle would happen, that something would slip, that we'd get pregnant again. Even though I know that it's a logical impossibility, that it's the worst possible timing in the world, that it wouldn't save our relationship, I still wanted it. Just for that moment. I know that it's not possible, and I'm glad that it's not, but all the same, that yearning was overwhelming.
On a logistical level, I know that this separation is a good thing. The best thing for our family right now, in fact. And on an emotional level, I know that it's right for me, and that what's right for me is, by extension, right for the girls. But on a visceral level, it hurts. I've discovered before that it's possible to be so incredibly sad that you actually feel it physically, as a pain. It's as though the emotion can't be contained inside, and comes shooting down your bones like fire. This is like that. The sorrow is near-constant, and when I think about it too hard, the pain comes knocking, just another reminder. There was a time I would have walked through fire to be with this man. I would have followed him to the farthest corners of the earth. He was love and life itself to me for years. And now? Farewell. How is it possible that a love like that was not enough to make this marriage work? Over and over, I kept saying to myself, as we moved quietly together - how can this not be enough? How?