It was five o’clock in the morning, the sun was rising just as fast as my heart was beating. My eyes grew heavy but remained guarding the entrance. Anxiously waiting to board the plane bound to my love ten hours away. At the same time my heart was breaking at the thought of my dear family waking to find an empty bed and closet.
My heart was racing.
I looked down at my luggage- a little environment bag held shut with bits of sticky tape.
What was I thinking? Was I even thinking?
I made it. The triumph in my heart was a bittersweet victory. I stepped foot in the airport where Marlon and I had planned to meet. I stepped foot on the ground where I bid him farewell a long four months ago. With every step I took forward towards the exit I felt a great relief, I actually made it. Every second step I took my heart was breaking a little more for my dear family I had left in our home.
I realised my parents had gotten a hold of my relatives in the Philippines when I spotted them waiting in the arrivals area of the airport. A quick phone call from Marlon and the plan had changed. Departures. That’s where I was to meet him.
There he was. I knew there and then I had made the right decision.
At what point do you turn your head and follow your heart? When does love become enough to hurt those you care about and still know you’re doing the right thing? Will my family ever forgive me? Will they hate me? “I’m sorry” I kept repeating in my head as we rested for the night. “I’m sorry I followed my heart”.
My dad had managed to get a hold of me and my family were able to pick up all the broken pieces of my heart and place them back carefully where they belonged. I wondered though, how will I return the favour and mend theirs?
As I frequently mention in my blog my family is amazing. My parents love for one another is indescribable. A few weeks being away from them they were still able to make me feel loved and anticipating my return. Unknowingly, they had helped me through the biggest obstacle in my life and all because they cared.
Marlon and I spent a little over a month together. Every day, every hour and every minute we spent together. We laughed, we cried, we argued and we made up. Looking back we were always stunned, is this time ever enough to measure how compatible you are with someone? Don’t the rule books suggest to be with someone for way longer before you confirm within yourself that they are “the one”? Little gestures made me sure he was the one. I often wake hungry in the middle of the night and he’d be up in an instant (even now) ready to bring food to me. Or because I’m such a chicken in the dark he’d escort me (still, even now) to the bathroom when I need to pee. He’d make sure I’ve eaten and I have clean clothes to wear. He just knew.
My departure date came near but we knew we’d see each other again. How long? That we didn’t know, but we knew we would.
The night before my flight we sat in bed and talked. The whole night we just talked and talked and talked. We reminisced, laughed and cried. He held me so tight I felt his fear of letting go. When you love someone though fear tends to make you stronger. We held onto the strength we had between us.
Saying goodbye was hard, but not as hard as I had imagined. I knew I’d see him again.
Arrivals- walking out was probably the longest walk. I wasn’t sure who to expect, or what to expect but there they were. My mum, dad and my siblings. No resent, no grudge and no hurt. Just relief. They welcomed me back. My mum and dad yet again reached out with their unconditional love.
When does love become enough? I believe you just know. I think the same way I unconsciously knew the love I had for Marlon was the same love my family had for me in return. The same way I knew love was enough to bring me back to my family and enough to reunite Marlon and I again.
Love becomes enough when you’re ready to jump and have faith, hurt and forgive with no boundaries. Love is enough.