Thursday night. Three drinks later in your car. We go about the night like all the others in the last three years: we drank, we danced, we caught up as we nearly yelled against loud music. The real conversation started as the car made its way to L’s before you dropped me off at home. On that night, you don’t even offer or ask how we’re going home. We simply followed you to your car. As the car moved along Pasong Tamo, you didn’t double check with us for the proper directions to our homes. You probably followed a route that led to the few ones in the last two years–from the previous warnings of a turn left or right, a missed opening that led to another U-turn, a redirecting of the road as we both navigated the directions of our own lives.
Then I asked you a question I had waited to ask since I last saw you.
“How do you deal with it…the heart break?”
“You wait. You give it time. You just have to be patient.”
That was what another friend told me too. He told it to me every time I asked him different forms of that question in his car. I heard it every time but I never listened. Maybe because it was too soon for me to really understand what he meant. Maybe because I wanted to understand the answer as soon as I heard it.
But when I asked you, there was a stillness in my heart. A quiet acknowledgement of that reality. Not acceptance; not quite yet. Yet the courage to ask that question was a step in itself. It was time to face the reality of my situation: That time only passes and all I can do is wait. However slow time may seem, it keeps going and all I can do is live through those slow moments.