Actually, I let both of them go. The first one maybe for good and the second for another painful 11 days.
The second one is my daughter who was taken from me by her mother, as my 4 fortunate days have passed today. I am one of those „very lucky” fathers that get to be with their child after divorce for 8 days a month, although the mother still thinks that it is too much.
I hope that nobody experiences the pain a father is going through when he needs to hand over the child to another person, a child that is crying because she wants to be with her father still, as she does not think that 8 days is „too much”. But adults know better, don’t they?
The first one was the women I loved the most in my life. She came into my life as a falling star and was extinct in the same rapid way she appeared on my sky. She was and still is everything that I ever dreamed to find in a woman: very mature thinking combined with a childish smile, inteligent and well-read in a very broad and diverse way, very sexual and inventive in bed, capable of great feelings although she prefered to repress them.
She was married at the moment we met and did not want to get involved in a new relationship. Everyhing started as a sexual encounter that developed rapidly into much more. The moments that we shared a few weeks after were the deepest and most intimate someone could ever experience in a lifetime.
She decided recently that she wants to get out of her marriage and also start a quest to find her true self and to cure her abused child traumas. Having a new relationship, not knowing if she is prepared or which are her desires towards a new man, was not something to help her.
So I decided to do one of the most altrustic gestures in my life: to let her go. Allow her the time to search her inner being and find what defines her, what are her roots that will drive her future mature behaviour and choice of people to have around.
Our love just started to open its wings and fly when a an poacher shot it down, merciless.
The pain I am feeling is beyond words. I m crying inside and outside, tears are falling on my cheeks even in public, without being able to contain myself. I am seeing her beautiful face in the window of my car, in every girl that I meet, in the blue sky. And every time I am praying that she will return to me.
I feel like an old suitcase with a lot of „Fragile” stickers on it, disregarded by people passing by that just kick it by mistake, over and over. This fragile thing called man is something rarely spoken about. Most men refuse to show their feelings and vulnerability. But in the darkest hour, we are as fragile as every woman.
And the dark is becoming more and more present.
Cumandfornication 