Part Twenty One: Of Leaving and Feeling Alone

"All that I'm after is a life full of laughter
Without you God knows what I'd do..."

-Daughtry 

The next morning was hard. Very hard. I was running on too little sleep, I didn't want to go anywhere, and the reality of leaving Jacob was setting in fast. For the first time in my life, I felt as if I was a part of someone else. For the first time, I felt like a part of something bigger.

Around 6am, I helped my mom and sisters pack everything up. There was a cold feeling in my chest that wouldn't go away as I surveyed the dark living room. I'd only been here for a short while, but I was going to miss this place so, so much. 

There was a rigidity to my movements. Mentally, I knew I had to leave. On the inside however, I wasn't ready. I couldn't leave. The pain of watching Jacob drive away was still all too fresh. How could I possible move on? I didn't want to drive away. I didn't want to fly away. There had to be someway I could avoid this.

But there wasn't anything else to do besides pack up the car, turn off the lights, and lock the door. There was nothing else. There was just an empty house, an empty heart, and miles to drive. I hadn't the time or ability to stay any longer. All the sand had run out of the hourglass. All the minutes had run off the clock.

It was still dark as we drove away. Even as the sun did come up and even as the miles past, the hole in my heart didn't go away. Every inch that took me further away from him hurt just a little more.

The radio was on and "Life After You" by Daughtry was playing. I couldn't really take the irony and yes... I started crying (not surprising, considering my past experiences). We were about 30 minutes into our drive to the airport.

I was going through the motions as we got closer to leaving the state. I texted Jacob, called Jacob, and thought about Jacob. By the time I was on the plane and watching North Carolina disappear into a green haze beneath me, I was completely gone. I was surrounded by strangers and unknown faces, but I didn't care. I closed my eyes and tried not to cry, but still the tears escaped despite my best efforts. I tried sleeping, I tried to think about something else... but all I could see was Jacob everywhere I looked.

Every second I lamented the distance that was creeping back between us, but despite the protesting in my heart, there was nothing I could do. This was it. We were back in New England. The trip was over.

The drive home from Boston felt just as bland and empty as everything else. I still couldn't believe how fast everything had happened. Jacob was gone, and I was alone once again. How could I have been by myself for so long and not have known that there was a piece missing in me?

Driving home from Boston in my car, Burton Gasket.
Yes. That's what I call my car.
Sometimes I call it Gus or The Strawberry, but you know.

And before long, it truly was just a memory. I was at my house once again. I was unpacking. I was getting ready to return to normal life.

Still, I wandered around the house I'd lived in for so long feeling like a stranger. This house would never truly be home again. North Carolina wasn't my home. New Hampshire wasn't my home. Where was home? 

I didn't know anymore.

I was glad to see my brothers and dad again, but I dreaded the thought of trying to go back to teaching and school the next day. There was no way I could move forward. Yes, I had to return to New Hampshire, but I couldn't return to the way things were. I just couldn't. How could I when I was suddenly so aware of that missing piece?

I wish there was something to say that could accurately describe those days after our first meeting. It was hard. It was very hard. I struggled, cried, prayed, wondered, cried out, and had days that I barely survived. I would wish desperately I could collapse and just forget about the world, but that wasn't an option. I had to be strong on my own. It was all I had. It was what he would want.

A month passed slowly but surely. People around me told me I seemed different and to be honest, I was. I was deeper. I felt more matured. I had experienced a love that I never knew could exist. I was in awe of a romance that crossed state lines, changed opinions, and broke down barriers. I was in awe of a God who was putting me through a pain so real, beautiful, and hard that I couldn't fully understand why or how. All I could do was trust in the fact that God wasn't done with us yet.

It was now April 7th, 2012. It had been a rough weekend. What had started off as some late Saturday evening pangs of aloneness grew and grew until I could practically taste the anxiety. I could feel it rubbing holes in the sides of my stomach. I could feel it beating down the walls of security around my heart. I didn't want to burden Jacob with my insecurities and loneliness.

I stayed up too late Saturday night talking to Debbie, crying over my keyboard, and not sleeping. I was exhausted. My head still hurt from a training sustained concussion, and I was worn out from the previous week. Go to bed. Please.

But even in the morning I wasn't feeling better. I felt empty again. I tried to reason with myself by saying I shouldn't miss him this much. I tried to make myself believe I was being a silly, emotionally stirred up wreck, but it wasn't working.

I missed Jacob. A lot. Nothing could console that.

He texted me around 9am. I was washing dishes and doing laundry while 3 sick kids hung out in the living room. My parents and Tim were getting ready to go to church while I prepped my role as home nurse. I wanted to match his cheery outlook, but I was torn. Should I go along and pretend I'm okay? Should I admit I still felt awful? I chose to be honest, however depressing.

We struggled back and forth via text in trying to make me feel better, but eventually he just called me.

"Will you promise not to kill each other if I get on the phone?" I asked the sickies from their stations on the couch.

They promised and I ran to answer my phone.

Within the first 5 seconds of hearing his voice, I was tearing up again. His poor, scratchy, sick voice... he had been sick for a few days now. He told me to find somewhere to sit and to close my eyes. I did just that, but the hot tears were leaking out nonetheless. 

He prayed for me. He prayed for me like I needed to hear. If there was no other reason I would love Jacob Clifton, I would love him simply for how he prays for me. He knows just what I need to hear. He doesn't say it for that reason, though. He says it because he believes it. He says it because he is a man of God who has conviction and loves me for who I am.

I felt like trash. I felt like a disaster. I felt worn out, sick, helpless... but he prayed for me nevertheless. Unfortunately, the wild carousing I could hear from upstairs reminded me that I needed to end the phone call. Still feeling decently hopeless, I said a solemn farewell and wiped the tears from my eyes to deal with whatever chaos was happening. Why? So I could get on the phone with Jacob again, of course!

I called him back to remind him none of what I was feeling was his fault. None of it. It was just so, so hard... but he knew that. We tried to make each other feel better. We laughed as best we could. We reminisced. We reminded ourselves of why this was so important. Hang up the phone again and go back to texting. Try to make yourself feel better, try and try again.

We were both shaken up. We were both crying because of how utterly and completely lost we both felt.

I prayed. I don't even remember what I said. I do remember ending the prayer and as we both fumbled for anything to make the other feel better, I managed to say the following: "Hard things take hard people. You and I are hard people. It took a lot for God to change us. And if we can withstand God working on us, we can withstand this."

I don't know where that came from, but it made me feel better, anyway.

"There's something I need to tell you," he got out.

"What?"

"I'm coming."

"What!?"

"I talked to my dad. In May. I'm coming in May. I'm coming for you, Beth."

Oh my my my.