Being Whole

My son called me tonight.

“I’m very emotional,” he said.

There was quiet. And I heard some sounds. He was crying.

He had dated a girl last summer. He had been very happy with her. She ended things. He was having a hard time letting her go.

I didn’t say anything for a while. I just let him cry. He told me how he had texted her to say goodbye and had thanked her for the lessons their relationship had taught him.

We talked.

“How did you feel when you were with her?” I asked.

“Happy, we had fun, life was great. I was in a great place.”

“Did you feel whole?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you need her back to feel whole again?”

“Kind of,” he said.

“Well, if the story that you’re not whole without her is true, than you better get her back. She could send you your arm or something in the mail to make you whole.” I said.

I know how he feels. I had a guy that I thought I needed to be whole. I had fun, was happy and could be myself with him. And I hadn’t really felt that way since things ended. But once someone asked me to consider that I might be attributing those feelings to him, I could finally unattach them.

“I guess I could be whole and complete on my own,” my son finally said. “But I needed that cry. I needed to get the pain out. My body was really hurting because I wasn’t letting it out. I feel much better.”

Feeling like you need someone else to be happy is a terrible feeling. I should know. I did it for quite a while.

But if I can belong to the universe and I am whole and complete by myself, then I could actually just enjoy another person instead of needing him. I could be myself and life could be fun. What a novel concept.

My son and I joked as we often do and he got off the phone happy. He was whole, and even told me about a cute girl he met at the airport. He was off to have dinner with his buddies.

It’s nice to be whole. Life’s more fun.

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