A few days ago, I sat in front of my window and looked up at the grey, rainy sky. I closed my eyes and prayed (as I do when I can have such a peaceful moment). I imagined, again, being with her and being in the places that are special to me. I thought of all of my past selves who were already able to be fully in that place and I cried.
The me who had taken a test earlier, the me who bought a dress last month, the me who sat by the lake to gaze at the moon, all of these pieces had gone on to be with her. It is a thought that usually comforts me. Knowing that with every moment that passes, the past is stored away somewhere holy.
I cried because I am always aware of the present, and unable to join my other pieces in their being with her.
Yesterday, I understood a connection this had to my day of fasting.
During my fast, I found that for most of the day, I was not hungry. I was impatient to eat.
I believe that in my moments of loneliness and separation from her, it is not that I am unhappy in the present, or that it is an unbearable pain to be without her. Rather, I am impatient. Only 20 minutes after my bout of crying did I realize my weeping self was now in the past and had gone exactly where she had wanted to go.
I only ever have to wait 1 second more for my current self to become the past.