The Ball Keeps Rolling

My Dad just called to ask me about different flight times. He is now definitely coming late on the morning of the 26th, sleeping in my apartment for that and the next night while we pack and clean, and we are flying out on the evening of the 28th. So, that is that. The end is set.

Last night, his mother called him to talk to him about similar stuff. He was in my room watching the Olympics with me when she called. I couldn't help crying when he got off the phone. He reacted with the same, "don't cry," and tried to do things to make me laugh. I was honestly a little annoyed, because I felt like he just didn't feel like seeing me cry, but later in the night I realized it was just his way of dealing with the situation.

Later on, he was a little drunk, and he turned to me and just looked really sad. He looked like he kind of tried to shake it off and said, "No, I'm not going to cry. I'm supposed to make you laugh." I asked what he was going to cry about. He said, "You." I asked why, happy to see some emotion out of him about this situation. He said, "I don't know how it is going to be when you're gone. It is going to feel awkward... strange... there really are no words. Maybe 'empty' works best." All I could think was, thank goodness he feels it too.

He is very close to getting a job offer. I have no new news on the job front. Maybe I could suggest going with him? But I know he won't go for that. He would feel guilty about me having to give up job possibilities for him. How could I convince him that it is worth it? That I couldn't care less about the jobs if it comes down to a choice between him and job options. I will find a job where he is. Maybe not in my field, but he only plans to work for a year anyways before applying to PhD programs. Then we would move again. I could do something I didn't enjoy all that much for a year.

Pipe dreams. I have to resign myself to the fact of saying goodbye. He resigned himself to that a long time ago. It would be easier if I believed in fate, or God, or some kind of grand plan. But I don't. I believe that our decisions dictate what happens to us. There is no, "if it is meant to be it will be." I don't believe that things work like that. I wish I did.

We don't really talk about the end. Even when I cry, we don't talk about why I am crying. Neither of us has uttered the words, "two weeks." It is like if we ignore how close the end is, it won't come. We avoid it like the plague. I avoid it because I don't want to have another fight. If it comes up, I know that I will bring up the fact that I want to try to make it work, or at least think about ways it could work, and he doesn't. We will yell. We will cry. We will waste valuable time fighting. That is not what I want.

So, today I will work on revising my thesis. Tonight we will watch the Olympics like we have been doing. The knowledge that tonight is not our last night together is enough for both of us for now. I know that all of my emotion is going to come bursting out of me one of these night, but for now I will try to hold it off. It is better that way--right?