Time to move

Today I finally decided to get rid of Jamie's old army fatigue jacket. I was going through my things and I came across it in the closet. I'd thought about getting rid of it many times before, but I always found it too difficult. I'd pick of the jacket and my eye would catch his name on the front. The patches on the sides that say "airborne" would make me picture him overseas. The rough texture of the material would remind me that the very jacket probably soaked up his blood, sweat, and tears. And every time, I'd fold the jacket back up and put it away.

I think my problem was that Jamie was always something I could never have. While we were together, I would dream daily about what our life would be like once his deployment ended. Would we see each other every day? Every week? Would we fight a lot? Would we be happy together? Sadly, I never got those answers because I never saw him again (until recently). In the meantime, I saved his letters, his pictures, his jacket, because I felt that everything of his I had would only bring me closer to him. It was the only way I could feel connected to him. If I couldn't have him with me, at least I could have something he touched, something he wrote, something he saw.

Now that I've seen Jamie again and know that I want to have nothing to do with him, I think I may be able to throw away his jacket. And then I'll throw away the pictures. The "Half my Heart is in Afghanistan" car magnet. The Pez dispenser he bought for me before I saw him on his leave. The books I borrowed from him and never got the chance to return. The pages and pages of emails and letters that I still have saved. The last, sad letter that I wrote without the intentions of ever sending to him. Of course, no matter how many things I throw away, I'll always have the memories of the way I felt when I was with him -- the only remnants of our relationship that I wouldn't want to destroy.

I think that everything we go through transforms us in some way. Sometimes the results may seem negative, but with the negative comes something equally positive as well. I think Jamie helped me realize that I needed to become a stronger person. I will never again spend so much time crying over a man who wasn't giving me what I deserved. I will not put my heart so completely into something that may be nothing but a ruse on the other side. Because of him, I felt extremely weak, but became much stronger. I also learned how much love I could have for someone. That's something I haven't experienced again since him. I really only saw Jamie a few times, never for very long. But throughout these times, there seems to be an infinite number of moments my heart jumped at the way he looked at me. The way his eyes were so full of feeling, my eyes still tear up with I picture him. There was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel something completely new. Over emails, we shared so much intimate information about ourselves. Our fears, our tragedies, our hopes and dreams. I came to love him despite his many flaws. Not to mention, his incredible body and the feel of his strong arms around me, and his incredible sensuality which affected me in ways I cannot begin to describe. These are the memories I have of him, and will always have, even after the physical evidence of our relationship is long gone.