Today is anything but "just another Saturday”. This is the first Saturday in two years that I've been alone. Not alone as in "by myself”, but alone as in "not part of a couple”.

Alone as in, I don't know what to do with myself. I ache. I feel an indescribable emptiness, an intense sadness. I just want to talk to him, but I can't. I can't seem to find solace in anything. I've cried so much that the skin around my eyes and cheeks is actually raw.

Will things ever feel normal again?

My daughter offered to ride over to his house with me. It was time. I had loaded up the car with some things I needed to take to him. Books, t-shirts, photos, his rice cooker, and other odds and ends. I also took his Christmas presents.

Although I thought it would be easier to do this while he was gone, I knew it would be extremely difficult. It was harder than I expected.

As the car passed sights that had become so familiar, it was almost able to find its way to the house without my assistance. My little Honda had made this trip so many times in the past two years, yet I knew this would be the last. I couldn't help but cry.

As we rounded the corner, a vivid memory flashed into my head. The vision was of the first time I came to the house. He was cooking dinner for me that night; it was shortly after we started dating. I remember the apprehension I felt as I turned onto that street. And, I remember how quickly that apprehension faded and was replaced a feeling of comfort, the contentment of being with a friend, yet the excitement of getting to know someone in an entirely different way than you had known them in the past.

Today, I was here for a different reason.

I walked into the house and took a deep breath, taking in that scent that is so "him” - one that has become incredibly comforting and reassuring to me. But, again, I realized this would be the last time. I set the shopping bag, rice cooker, and gifts neatly in the living room and went downstairs to begin collecting my things.

I walked slowly down the steps gazing at a place that had become such a haven, almost a sanctuary - a place of calm, serenity. A place to talk. A place filled with laughter, joy, and immense physical and emotional pleasure. Now, though, these were things of the past…. Mere memories. Painful memories right now, though I hope that will change.

I proceeded upstairs to get my camping gear and gather my belongings from the bathroom. First, two nightgowns and then everything from "my drawer” and around the tub. I sobbed. This seems so unreal, almost like a horrible nightmare I'm struggling to wake up from.

If we hated or despised each other, if we fought and exchanged nasty words, if we lacked respect for one another. If we didn't enjoy each other's company or didn't have the same base values and beliefs - if we couldn't talk to each other - then YES, we should part ways. But none of those things are true and that makes this so senseless.

I took one last look at the photographs in the living room before gathering everything up and saying a silent farewell to the house that had become like a second home to me. My daughter comforted me, her hand gently circling the small of my back. As many ups and downs as we have had, she's always there for me. Sometimes, it still catches me off guard. As we pulled away in the car, it was overwhelming to think that things will now never be the same.

In the depths of my mind, I can't even imagine what the next weeks and months will be like. They will consist of existing, but certainly not living. There is much healing to be done.

Jess and I talked a bit on the way home…mostly me telling her that our relationship was much more good than bad. I guess I felt some sort of obligation to explain the unexplainable to her so that she isn't forever affected by my example.

I told her of his comment that if there was one bright spot in this, it was that she would be happy - never having been a fan of our relationship. Her reaction was strong. She looked at me in bewilderment, and explained that no matter what she thought of him or the relationship, she loved me and never wanted to see me so unhappy. Deep down, I knew this was the way she felt. All she wants is to see me happy - and the past two years have been two of the happiest of my life.

Now, it's 1:30pm and I'll be alone until my daughter returns from work at midnight. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't want to be alone, but I don't want company. I don't feel like talking to anyone, or doing anything. I feel like I'm losing what's left of my mind. I don't know that I've ever felt this alone. But, I don't know that I've ever lost such a huge chunk of my life all in one fell swoop.

I received a rather poignant email today from a gentleman who has one of the most brazen personalities I've ever come across. People do surprise you sometimes. It said, "The pain of an ending relationship, to me, only serves to validate the feelings felt during the relationship, and as such, deserve your full attention.”

I just wish I knew what was next. And, although I know I must feel it to move on, I wish I knew how to stop the pain.

But, this wasn't just a weekend, or a few months. It was two years. Two wonderful, indescribable years. This wasn't an acquaintance or a mere lover - this was a friend, someone who became my best friend - against all odds.

When two people who are in some ways polar opposites come together and connect the way we did, that is rare. When two people can enjoy spending hours together - when 9 hours passes like 15 minutes, that is a gift. When two people can laugh together and be there for each other during the rough times, that is special. When two people can turn everyday mundane tasks like shopping for groceries, fixing dinner, or raking leaves into a fun experience, that is precious.

People come and go. Relationships like this don't come along everyday. In my opinion, one is blessed to find such a connection once in their life. If they find it more than that, they are incredibly fortunate.

I leave this relationship with a countless number of happy, unforgettable memories, but by the same token, I can't help but feel profound sorrow at the thought that there will be no more new memories and that those joyous times will not be repeated. I'm a realist. Many of those things were "once-in-a-lifetime”.

Yes, people come and go. Experiences like the ones we shared are once in a li

fetime. How many people enjoy camping the way we did it? Or have such a passion for writing? How many people enjoy sleeping on a concrete sidewalk? Relish the idea of getting away for four days in the complete wilderness with no amenities? Wouldn't mind subsisting on ramen noodles and going sans shower for a week, just to experience truly "getting away”? How many people dream of travelling the country living by such minimalist means for months at a time?? How many people enjoy sitting on bike for 24 hours straight? How many really share the same warped sense of humor?

True partners - partnerships like the one we had are one in a million.

Sure, one can do all of these things alone, but to me it doesn't even come close. Everything in life is all the richer when shared with someone.

I honestly believe that neither of us will ever find such a rare, lasting bond with another person. Maybe I'm wrong; I hope I am. But, I believe we're truly unique people and finding another like us - who enjoys the same things in life - will not be easy.

In a way, I'm so disappointed in myself. Why did I allow myself to fall this way? I've always prided myself in the fact that I don't need anyone. I'm financially and emotionally independent. But, right now, I feel like all I need is him. Just the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, the comfort of his embrace, the warmth of his laughter. Right now, I feel like he is the only one who can provide me with any solace. The thought that I will never again lay with my head resting on his shoulder leaves me with a very desolate feeling. And, for that, I am angry with myself.

There are so many things I'd like to have the opportunity to relive. It's odd - you appreciate things while they're happening, but that appreciation only grows stronger when you know they have been lost.

I told a mutual friend last night that I wish I'd known the last weekend in October would be our last spent away together. The weekend in that cabin was wonderful, but I think I would have cherished it even more had I known it would be our last.

Our connection was deep, and actually, that hasn't changed. Sometimes, I think it is still deepening, even in a time like this. Again, that is what makes this so difficult to understand.

There will come a point when I'll be able to breathe again, but I don't know that I'll ever truly live again. I know with certainty that my life will never be the same now that he's gone. There will always be an unimaginable void there where he belongs. Comparisons will always be made. For me, it will never truly end.

We believe different things about love. I believe what we have is love - he believes love is something of a more magical nature. I don't know which of us is right, maybe neither. It could be that love is somewhere in between. Or, maybe it's different things to different people. I don't think an answer exists to that which is one of life's greatest questions: What is love?

Life is strange. You have to wonder why God would put two such compatible people together only to pluck them apart… There must be a lesson somewhere in this. I wish I could find it.

No matter what, I just want him to know that I'll always believe we could have had many, many happy years together. It may not have been week-kneed, firework-popping, and starry-eyed, but I don't believe such things last for an extended period of time. I do believe that a person who can be your best friend and lover for the long term is hard to find. I do believe that authentic companionship is underrated. There are no words that will do justice to the meaning of true companionship and what a gift it is.

My devotion was deep and unwavering. And, should a day come that he needs something, I will still be there without a moment of hesitation, regardless of the circumstances. I just want him to know that.

I've said awful things, primarily out of hurt. But, there is no excuse, and for those things that I have said and shouldn't have, I am profoundly sorry. Deep in my heart, I know he hasn't done anything to intentionally hurt me and I also realize his feelings and beliefs about love are beyond his control as are mine. I just want him to know that I understand and I am sorry that I allowed my own pain to translate into mean, unnecessary words between us. I don't want those words to tarnish what we had; I would take them back if I could.

Saying goodbye is never easy, particularly when two lives have become so entwined. Mine has never been quite as entwined with another; this is a first for me. I've taken down the pictures and put away the mementos, but it isn't out of disrespect for what we had. It isn't because I hate him or want to wipe the slate clean of the experience. It's because I don't know how else to deal with it. I just want him to know that.

He should know that he has had a profound impact on me. He has truly changed my life, showing me things I'd never seen, giving me experiences I'd never had, and introducing me to parts of myself that I never knew existed. He believes I keep much of myself hidden, and I suppose I still do, but he'll never know just how much of myself I exposed to him that I have never exposed to anyone else.

He should know that I think he is an incredible person, a gift to the world.

And if someday, he finds he wants to try again, I'll be here. I just want him to know that.

Finally, he should know that no matter what happens now - where each of our lives take us, I will always, always hold a very special place in my heart for him. That place will be his and his alone - forever.

Epilogue: After a brief separation, we were reunited for nearly three more years. The relationship ultimately ended after a significant betrayal came to light. The moral of the story is all too familiar - no matter how well you think you know a person, you don't always know the real person. Two years later, we are trying to rebuild a severely damaged friendship.

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