Do You Let Go, or Do You Say Goodbye?

It’s the “I should’ve called” that gets me. Because, yeah, you should have. I turned down something else. I kept the evening open. And by the time you tell me what happened, I’ve already spent half the night making excuses for you in my head.

Once, I can understand. I’ve been the one who should’ve called. What pisses me off is hearing myself say “It’s okay” on the fourth go-round when I know damn well it isn’t. I say it to get us through an awkward minute. Then you get to feel better, and I’m still mad tomorrow.

My instinct is to figure things out. Give me a problem and I’ll stay with it. That’s served me well, except when the problem is a promise somebody else made. I can remind you. I can rearrange my day. I can explain why it hurt in five different ways. I still can’t keep your word for you.

So I owe you one honest conversation. “When you tell me you’ll be there, I count on you. When plans change and you leave me waiting, it hurts. If you can’t make it, call me.” And I owe you the chance to tell me something I might have missed. I’d want that chance myself.

What happens the next time matters to me. Maybe you call on Thursday to say Friday won’t work. I can make other plans. You remembered what it cost me last time. Something that small can give trust a place to start again.

Sometimes letting go is enough. I can love somebody, be glad to hear their voice, and make my Friday plans without counting on them. There are people I’d happily have coffee with who I wouldn’t ask to pick me up at the airport. It took me a while to realize both things could be true.

Goodbye is harder. For me, it comes when the only way to keep us going is to keep telling you I’m fine with something that’s wearing me down. By then I’d rather say it plainly, while I still remember what I loved about you. “You mattered to me. This keeps hurting. I’m stepping away.”

The thing I keep coming back to is that I want to mean what I say, too. If I tell you I forgive you, I don’t want to make you pay for it every time the phone rings. And if I tell you I’m done waiting, then come Friday, I need to make plans of my own.

— Weathered Voice