I’m on one of those trips of a lifetime.

The ones that change you—not change your soul, but a little of your heart as it takes in little pieces of all the places you visit.

You feel yourself growing as you open yourself like the bloom of a beautiful flower to all the new experiences you are sharing. Some places more captivating than others, but nonetheless, every place leaves a tiny mark on you. Each day, you learn something new, you see something you’ve never seen before. All your senses are wide awake; you feel more—you feel everything.

And it’s in these moments when your senses are so alive that you remember. You remember the life you have lived thus far. You remember the love you have felt.

And with bittersweet reminders, I remembered him.

Like small but defining triggers, he pops into my head. I’m having an incredible trip, a trip I’ve waited all these years to take, but there he is sharing my consciousness. Gate crashing my activities. His energy participating in my adventure. Like a movie that never quite ends, I’m reminded he still seems to have a role. A role he doesn’t deserve, and a role that needs to be written out of my movie once and for all.

It’s confronting when you thought you had completed the “letting go” process, only to realise there are still fragments. Little reels forcing you to take action.

And after all this time, I’m finally bidding him farewell.

My first memory unexpectedly appeared as I sat in a small Italian Ristorante enjoying a Malbec. I wasn’t a fan of red wine when we met and he said, “I need you to enjoy a glass of red so when we travel to those vineyards in Italy, we can enjoy that together.” Well here I am enjoying a red wine in Italy, without him. The wine tastes incredible, the view is magnificent, and as he entered my conscious thought, I raised my glass and silently wished him well, as I returned that energy to him.

As I immersed myself as much as possible, my next memory struck my heart. I was watching a couple as I sat in a restaurant, and I heard the man say “ti amo” and was instantly reminded how many times he said that to me. Ti amo, “love you” in English, such a beautiful term of endearment. I sat there allowing myself to reminisce for the briefest of moments, allowing myself to reflect upon all those moments he said or wrote ti amo. And then I whispered ti amo into the universe and I sent that love back to him. It’s not mine anymore, and it no longer belongs to me. I don’t need to hold onto something that wasn’t meant to be.

All these stunning destinations that I thought I would share with him, I am experiencing without him. Oceans that are the most crystal of blues. Skies that glow with the most gorgeous of hues. Food that tickles your taste buds. Some of the best wines in the world. And the excitement of learning about a new culture.

As I currently sit looking over the expansive vineyards in Tuscany, I acknowledge him sharing my consciousness, and in some ways sharing this journey—but that wasn’t to be my story, or his story.

My story is to experience this part of my journey without him, and in doing so, I let those little bits of him, those remaining bits that still energetically visit me finally go. Not without a little sadness. Not without sending his energy back to him with love and not without feeling that final bit of loss.

I let them go as they showed themselves. As I sipped my wine. As I heard those words “ti amo.” As I viewed every beautiful inch of the picturesque places I have visited. I let them go. I let him go. It’s well overdue, and I realised as I released every intricate piece that they had been weighing me down. Not in the literal sense, and not in my everyday life, but they were there, little bits and pieces. They were there sitting, perhaps a little buried, awaiting their moment to ring the bell loudly, so I was forced to acknowledge them and take action. Reminding me I could hold onto all the precious memories, but the energy of what was, what still wraps itself around my very being, had to go.

So like the little parts of the dandelion that float into the atmosphere, each time the wind blows, I let the Italian breeze take those remaining bits and release him. Bit by bit in each place I visit that has a reminder of him, I let go. Not with any fanfare or fuss, just a few words whispered, a warm embrace for the time that we shared, and a sense of deep peace. Because in finally letting go of all those pieces, I make way for new pieces. New adventures and a new story that is for me, and to me, I say “ti amo.”

Because some stories need to be rewritten. Some pages hold such beauty just as they are.

~

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