Not only was I alive, but my EX was immediately at the scene of the accident with his arms desperately wrapped around me as if he never wanted to let me go. I didn’t know exactly how or what to feel about his admitted fear of losing me forever. After all, he had chosen to let me go when he asked for divorce. But there he was, clinging to me as if his own survival depended upon it. I guess a little reminder about mortality puts life’s priorities into perspective.
For a moment, I felt like I had the upper-hand in our relationship. What my heart lacked in strength, my mind made up for in resolute determination. I would not allow myself to deteriorate into some fragile, feeble, fearful woman in need of my EX to make me feel safe. His arms were wrapped around my body, but he could no longer touch my soul. I let him hug me for his own benefit. I think it somehow absolved him of some guilt.
That wasn’t our last hug, though. Our last hug was at LAX Airport when he dropped me off for my flight to NYC. It was a surreal and indescribable, out-of-body experience. That hug seemed to narrate the last 8 years of our lives together: from the intense, emotional and passionate bond we shared in the beginning... to the comfortable and nurturing familiarity of a life-long friendship...to the absence of emotions shared by strangers. During that hug my mind filled with memories of love, passion, joy, laughter, intimacy, friendship and happiness. But my heart was full of sadness and tears and my body was numb. It was an awkward and devastatingly uncomfortable goodbye. That was the hug that marked the beginning of the end.
