One year.

It's been a year. Today, at about 6:00 p.m., it's been a year since she sat down and said, "I need to talk." It's been about a year since I smirked. I thought it would be a talk about my health. It wasn't. "I think that it would be best if we ended this relationship."

There was nothing but silence ringing in my ears for what felt like an eternity. Then, a numbness came over me, and a single sentence was all I could utter at first. "What, why?'

She had grown unhappy. We both had. I was neglectful of her and myself. I was shocked by her announcement. I was numb when she told m that she had arranged to move out the next day. She'd spend a month at the hotel she worked at, and then she'd board a plane and leave for Chicago.

She spent the night going through her things, packing what she could reasonably take, leaving, or throwing away the rest. The topic of the dogs came up immediately. She offered to rehome them. I said no, they would stay with me, live their lives uninterrupted except for her sudden absence.

Over the next month, we met a few more times. She didn’t have a car and couldn’t drive, so I picked her up. We came to the house, ate lunch, and played board games. She spent time with the dogs. I awkwardly and timidly tried to broach the subject of our now tattered relationship.

I dropped her off the last time at the hotel 20 days later. The following morning she boarded a plane and left just as she planned.

It’s been a year. I have struggled. Depression; a curse that many in my family bear. Loss of dear friends. Financial hardships. Health concerns. It’s been a year of barely living my life. The pandemic had kept me bound. I work nearly every day, and if it’s not at my job that it’s a side hustle. This will continue for the foreseeable future. But not really.

Not everything has been negative. My health concerns have led to me making significant lifestyle changes. Of which I find myself losing weight and feeling better than I’ve felt in years. My side hustles have led me to take steps to do voiceover work. Something that I would have never thought possible even five years ago. I’ve been in two active TTRPG campaigns and am gearing up to start one online for my adult nephew, his husband, and their roommates. Spring is almost here and with it is an optimism and a hope that I’ll be able to reconnect with friends in Salt Lake City and see live shows and theater again. There’s numb happiness setting in.

Yet still, I miss her. We have chatted here and there. Sometimes the conversations have been extended and last an hour or more. Other times it’s just an odd comment in messenger. I send her videos of the dogs regularly. I think she may even watch them. She hasn’t asked me to stop, but if she does, I will. I hope she doesn’t.

My reality was shattered when she left. But now, a year later, I have to wonder what that reality was. I had fallen so deep into myself that I probably wouldn’t have made it another five years before my poor life choices completely overtook me. I was wallowing in my misery to the point I was pulling her down as well. It was a hideously unfair scenario to both of us, but primarily to her.

I hope she’s happy now. I want her to thrive. I want me to thrive. I still cry, though rarely. Mostly I smile when a song comes on the radio that she’d sing to, or the dogs do something that she would have commented on. I don’t dread each day anymore. I still think about what might have been, but then remember that it was soured by the misery that the year 2020 amplified.

There’s that numb happiness. That’s better than the bleak despair. That’s ok, but I'm striving for something better. Contentment. I hope I become a better person. Yet I still miss her.