Long Distance Relationship

Faith in ‘us’.

Worthy, it will be.

Trust; it won’t be the last.

Maybe it was the universe’s plan of telling that love doesn’t come easy; when actually, there exist no such thing as easy or difficult, and less or even enough. Love comes as is, without any exception or any form of measurement. No matter what love is or how one perceives it to be, it comes in twists and turns and puts one off guard. There lies the beauty with love. It may come in an instant or grow with time. It may happen without knowing, or have been playing games with the heart. For some, distance is a major player. Distance is the joker, neither a friend nor a foe, a simple concept yet a major deal breaker. It has always been that certain risk almost all disregard, avoid and give up to.

Once a month.

I have long been in a distant relationship with my boyfriend. Right off the bat, I’ll say it’s nowhere near easy. It’s a risk almost everyone is against and I completely understand why. Every minute on the phone bears so much meaning as we try to suffice each other’s longing for touch; for home. I have never been attached to my phone since we’ve been together. To be honest, it was neither a delight nor a dolorous compensation, but a necessity and the only option to deal with our shortcomings. Distance wasn’t our choice. Distance chose us, and happened and was there before we were together. Decisions were dealt with and priorities were set – one thing was clear: what bears the greatest importance as of now is our own personal growth. Such entails scheduling and rescheduling celebrations, giving up first-time experiences which could have been better if shared with each other, and endless understanding of broken promises. As we aspire to be the best version of ourselves, we learned that we could grow not necessarily with each other, but through each other. For distant relationship cannot persevere without faith – in words, in time, in each other and with ourselves. It is a sacrifice, yes. And it all makes sense.

Twice a year.

Six years age gap; I must say we didn’t grow up close with each other. She left Philippines; it was alright. I was still young. She visits; everything was fine. Then comes the time to say goodbye. It was a cycle. Hello, then goodbye. Hello again, and goodbye. It kept on and on… indeed a tedious cycle. One that surely kept on thrusting deeper and deeper into an immensely-growing empty space I was unaware of existing. What aches the most with every goodbye is “when again?”. As I try my best to catch up and to make up with my sibling-duties I feel I lack, the bitter truth that I took her for granted during my younger years slowly creep in. Why appreciate the value of something when it’s already unmanageable and has slipped off one’s grasp? Why only acknowledge something when it suddenly went out of routine rather when it was still on the comfort zone? Did time fool me, or was it me who was simply the fool? Instincts tell me I should just allow time to take its own course. Let alone the most troublesome question about this cycle, “until when?”, to slowly seep through every ticking second of the clock. Like the tic to the toc, it’s all making sense why our relationship had to be in a certain distance – to see what’s really worthy and what’s not.

Once in a lifetime.

Pure bliss. It was the perfect kind of love with the right balance of strictness and childishness. I came across a saying “out of sight, out of mind”. I understand that there’s no guarantee that we’ll meet again, but there’s something about our love that makes me feel so much; all I had to do is close my eyes and he’s there. He’s just there. He’s just right there. His love is his rocking chair where he used to sit whenever he waits for me, the stove where he prepared my meals with so much care, and the car where he was always so careful to make sure I arrive safe and sound. I miss him, his aftershave scent, the mole on his right cheek, his love for Coldplay, his pranks to my mom, and his toes which look similar to mine. But am I missing a fatherly love? I now sit on his rocking chair more often than before, cook on the stove as often as I could, and drive the car as carefully as he did, but I am nowhere lacking of love from my father. He loved so much. It even overflows up until this time. I may sound delusional and you may think I absolutely talk nonsense, but if this isn’t love, then what?

For some, distance is a major player.

For me, it is an added spice to life.

Distance is beautiful.

It taught me how to feel the most.