Posted by Jerry on December 12, 2006
Gawd, I almost cry everytime I listen to James Blunt’s Goodbye My Lover.
I have never spoken of these things before–not on my blog at least. What makes me bring them up now, I’m not sure. Perhaps, the sense of finality is dawning on me, that my life has irreversibly moved on–and so have the lives of those who were once part of mine.
What hurts me the most–and it hurts to the core everytime I am reminded of it–is the utter absence not only of my lover next to me but also of the common world that we once shared between us. I cannot even visit the same restaurant we so loved to frequent and order a Thai iced tea and summon his thoughts as I sip alone in silence.
Even the bitter solace of seeking those places in heavy solitude is robbed from me. Even that moonlight is denied me–by the planetarium where we had sat late into the night. All I have are thoughts–memories–ghosts. I do not even have the physical reminders of a love once cherished–not the sunset under which we buried our tired spirits after a long day’s work, nor the sunrise that we so eagerly awaited after an all-night out; not the expansive view out the third-floor balcony on which we stood silently in each other’s arms, nor the flitting images outside our car window as we went on our many roadtrips.
I can’t even walk the streets you walk, or pass by your house and hope to catch a glimpse of you.
Indeed, I long to simply see “Hawaiian Waffles” on a restaurant menu again, or a Banana split sundae. But no, nothing. Absolutely nothing around me relents. And that is what hurts the most. I am not afraid that I might forget you. I am afraid that, under this unrelenting environment that demands that I leave my memories behind, I might never leave your soul.
*The picture above is not of James Blunt or from any of his albums. It’s a picture I took of the one who is the subject of this post.