As I drove home last night, I felt the pages of that chapter coming to a close. With every mile, with every exit, every county entered, every bridge crossed. It is closed. It is finished. I couldn’t help but wail the entire way home. All of those moments crying, everyday, numerous times a day for months…they’re done. They’re over. It’s over. My feelings for him have almost been silenced. When I drove past him in his car I chuckled instead of cried. It was a lot easier to see him, even for that brief second, than I ever thought it’d be. Moving on is a choice. Love is a choice. Letting go is a choice. I think I’ve made the right choice for once. I’m thankful that God is quick to pull us out of our own shit when time has come to its full. I’m thankful that He allows growth to come from our horror and our mistakes and our darkest tragedies. I’m thankful that He heals when we ask and that He’s a good comforter. I’m thankful that He doesn’t need an audible voice to speak to me (although I get frustrated sometimes that He wont use one). I’m thankful that He’s so close to me that He hears my thoughts and that He knows the things that are in my heart…the things that I don’t even know about.
I drove fast. I cried a lot, but it was a happy cry for once. I’m free. Finally free and I couldn’t help but cry out of pure joy and thankfulness.