One day I finally knew how to let go of you.
I sat on my bed, holding an amethyst crystal in each hand, the two pieces that I bought at the same time, intending to send one to you to retrieve you to me...
I sat on my bed holding one in each hand, the two pieces that look like teardrops, with the small pointy ends all clear and the bulky round parts all deep purple...
I sat holding you in one hand and myself in the other, or the part of my heart I’d given to you and the part of my heart that needed resuscitating...
I sat there holding these two pieces and I thought, “They ought to fit together.”
I sat there holding the part of you that I thought I loved and the part of me that thought she knew what love was, and I thought, “If these two pieces can fit together, then I’ve solved it. I’ll know I don’t have to let go because they fit together.” And I tried fitting them together - first this way, then rotated that. I thought the two teardrop shaped gemstones might combine to form a whole heart in my hands. But no matter which way I turned them, there was no way to fit these two, me and you. And that’s when I finally knew.
I had to put down the puzzle to let go of you. I had to put it down - and not just the puzzle pieces, but the puzzle in my head, too, the one where one square is always missing, always. The puzzle in my mind is always shifting because of the missing pieces, and so my mind is always looking for that perfect piece to fill the space. I had to put down my mind puzzle in order to let go of you.
My hands opened and the two pieces of amethyst dropped onto the bed at my sides. I closed my eyes and allowed myself time to remember each moment - so many moments. I said, “I release you to your highest good,” and I felt that heat behind my eyes, that wet alchemy of coming to my senses: sharp, a stinging. And at the same time, something warm in my chest, a kick, a burst, a flapping of wings. A recovery of a broken piece - it was never missing. I just needed to put you down in order to pick up all these little pieces of me.
One day I finally knew how to let go of you. And one day I’ll know what to do with all of these little pieces of me. Or maybe I won’t. And that feels right. Because what happened actually happened, all of it. Letting go of you doesn’t mean it never happened. It just means I’m making more space for now.
One day I finally knew all of the words to that song you sang to me under the stars and I sang it without longing for you by my side. Without wondering where you were all those years. Without wishing for a different life. One day I finally knew that you had been giving me what you had to give, which was just what I needed at the time. In that moment, under the stars, we did fit together like two tear drops suspended in midair, as the night grew cold around us but neither of us noticed. In that moment it was real and alive but in every moment after that, where I retreated in my memory back to that moment, I was chipping away at that puzzle piece inside me, smashing it to dust, dust which cannot be made alive again by my breath or my will or my longing.
Sarah Elovich is a writer and performer based in Oakland, CA.