{ hurt }

Pain.  Confusion.  Grief.  Loss.  Questions.  Longing.  Waiting.  Aching.

Those words sum up my life these past three weeks.  Those words.  All day.  In my mind, in my heart, on my countenance.  Weighing me down so much.  Making everything suddenly seem bleak, and making the usual joyful, light, positive girl within me suddenly be quiet, sober, and down.

This is what suddenly loosing your best friend, the person who had called you "their" person, will do to you.  

We were so happy.  Things were going so well.  We were gonna make it when other couples were ending.  All the lights seemed green.  We loved being together.  Doing anything and everything.  

Together.

Cooking.  Kayaking.  Cleaning.  Laughing.  Crying.  Praying.  Walking.  Sharing. 

We were so happy.  All the lights seemed green.  We were taking our time, not wanting to rush into an engagement/marriage, but everything seemed good.  Having both been hurt deeply by people in the past, we understood that trust takes time to build, but we both wanted to do it.  Together.

And then, confusion.

I knew he was struggling a little.  We had talked about it.  His past was still haunting him a bit, and he was waiting to have that final "break through" moment.  But we were hopeful it would work out.  That everything would click.  That he would fully allow himself to trust me, and to let himself free of the restraints he was holding onto.  But we were close.  We wanted to be together all the time.  We missed every minute that we had to spend apart.  His job kept him busy, and I kept myself busy with work, and my people.  But we were slowly building a future together.  We talked about everything.  Children.  House colors.  Size of our future family.  Where we could possibly live.  Gosh, he even bought a house..... and we bought paint.  He kept referring to it as his, and he was making plans for it.  But he was allowing me to plan with him.  What we wanted to do.  How we would redo the kitchen.  I was planning to redo the front with plants.  He was going to paint the doors for me, because I couldn't stand the color.  We were *happy* and free.  Cautious- maybe a little too much from me in hindsight- but happy.

And then we weren't.

He talked with my Dad.  For almost three hours.  They talked about everything.  And that's when Tim admitted that he was really struggling with depression/insecurity, and wasn't sure what was going on.  He said he cared about me.  That I was all he'd ever wanted.  That everyone was telling him she was "the one" for him.  He told my Dad how happy I made him..... yet he couldn't say that he loved me.  That he was fully confident we would work.  There was something still holding him back, but he didn't know what.  

What were we going to do?

I called for a slight break.  I needed time to think.  Was this the red flag we'd been praying for?  Why were we having this conversation?  Was that just his depression talking, or was this a valid concern?  How much did I care for him?  What did I want to do?  Tim left it up to me- he saw the concerns, but wanted more time.  He didn't want to loose me, but also wanted me to make my own decision about the relationship.  

So I thought.  And prayed.  And cried, let's be hones.

So many hours of prayer.  Thinking.  Talking to a few people.  Waiting.  Wondering.  Questions.  That week was so hard.  But at the end of it, I couldn't walk away from Tim.  I needed to give it more time.  We should be cautious, and view this as a possible red flag.... but it wasn't big enough to end the relationship.  We were too invested.  I knew he cared about me, and I for him.  We had something.  I just couldn't give that up.  He meant too much to me.  So I reached out.  We met for coffee, and spent 6 hours together.  Talking.  Laughing.  Listening.  Planning.  

And it made us closer.

We were closer after that.  It had drawn us together, because we had worked through something bigger.  All the doubts were out in the open.  There was a different type of closeness.  Something shifted.  Tim made it more apparent that he cared for me.  His arm was always around me at church; my hand always in his.  We celebrated Easter together, with me being so sick.  I cried in front of him that weekend, because my throat hurt and I couldn't talk with him.  That should be how much I cared, and how much I trusted him.  He nursed me back to health, providing everything he could to make me feel better.  He told me I was beautiful, and that he wanted to be with me.  

Life was good.  Amazing.  Busy, but happy.

Police life is hard.  Their schedules are demanding.  The 40 minute driving distance was hard.  My "normal" work schedule was hard to match with his.  So we were missing each other hard.  Slowly he got slammed with work, so we were only seeing each other once a week, if he couldn't make it to church.  But it was ok.  We knew that was part of the job, and that if we got married we would be seeing each other daily.  I didn't mind it.  It gave me time to spend with my family, and continue doing things I loved, besides being with him.   I thought everything was good.  My family was still warning me to be concerned- he was 30 after all.  Shouldn't he see you as the best thing in the world and be ready to say "I love you" and "you're my world" to you?  But I was ok with it.  It would come.

And then on Saturday, April 28th my world changed.