The following short story is dedicated to a dear friend who among all things always believes in happy endings, even when the girl doesn’t get the guy. So here it is, for the eternal optimistic, who always believes in love.

She fell in love the most way women do. Among flattery, promises of moon and the stars, and dreams of a fairy tale ending. And she believed in love the way most of us do. Blindly.

He was charming and kind, she was swooned and easily fell head over heels for him. Their love blossomed over constant hours of conversation about everything and anything. And even though many opposed the idea of a long distance relationship working - she thought of it romantic and endearing.

Sadly after a couple of years and an engagement later it all came crashing down. It was a late winter day when he told her through an email that HE fell out of love. She read it over and over hoping that among those lines there was something she missed. So there she sat staring at the end of what seemed to be her life and all she could do was cry. She got up went to her calendar and when she crossed out “Please wait for me”, the words he’d written just before leaving the states, she collapsed on the floor and sobbed uncontrollably for the loss of him.

The next morning she looked outside and the sun was gone. It was raining, but no amount of rain could wash away her sadness. She was at that moment… heartbroken. That’s when her heart stopped, her dreams were shattered and her fairy tale ending was brought to a screeching halt.

The break up arising out of thin air and with no real reason left her confused, hurt, shocked, and very much in pain. The more she thought about it the more she didn’t understand. How could someone, who had promised her forever, take it all away with just a few words? She never got closure, just an apologetic excuse with awkward reasoning. And that hurt her more. She found her self with the moon and the stars that he promised her, crashing down right on top of her. He hurt her so bad; she didn’t know where to begin to pick up the pieces of her life.

During the day it was very easy to be brave. But when night fell and the truth crept up in between dreams there was no escaping it. Some nights the silence scared her so much she’d wake up covered in tears and memories. See it was within the loss of them and the loss of her ideals that she lost herself. So she cried more tears than she thought she could cry and felt more pain that she thought she could feel. She was alive after all but alive with out him in her live.

But the days became weeks, the weeks - months and the pain became easier to deal with. With time she accepted defeat. So she boxed away the photographs and old letters. Boxed away the pictures and old CD’s he burned for her. And in that box she put away memories of yesterday.

Still the fact remained, her belief system was shaken. “I’m afraid that he took my ability to love” she would confide in her friends. Because after the pain became easier to handle her heart grew cold. And the biggest fear in being untouchable isn’t the fear of love itself but of never being able to be moved again.

Nevertheless, you can’t rush healing. It’s a process from the sleepless nights, to the “I can’t believe I loved you” days. So she took her time, remembering, feeling, and growing as the days passed. See it’s true we lose our battles but it’s also true that we win wisdom for the days ahead.

With time and healing she finally went a day with out thinking of him till finally her heart didn’t sink every time she heard his name. And since happiness cannot be found looking back she found ways around the memories.

Many years later I find myself immersed in conversation with her. “It’s been hard to be me again” She sighs. “But how long you dwell in defeat is entirely up to how fast you get tired of feeling like a failure. You just have to stop thinking about what you think you lost and look forward to what there is to gain.”

And it gets me thinking. The process of healing and moving on is a complicated one. Many get lost in the “I miss you”, “I can’t live with out you” days. But it’s a required process to move on correctly. Otherwise if you jump from tears to “just fine” you kid yourself that you are ok. You’ve just allowed the memory to grow tender so when the subject is touched your heart will beat differently. Never letting you rest completely.

She looks up at this point and stares up into the distance seeing something I don’t see and says “I’ve reconciled with the idea that he was never meant for me. But I’ve also learned there’s no such thing as you lost it all… after all for every ending there’s a new beginning…”