Closure

Last Saturday, Andrew and I went up to Magna to experience the Magna Arts Festival that takes place on Magna Main Street. Local vendors set up booths up and down the street to sell their wares. While it wasn't exactly the most thrilling festival, it was still fun to wander up and down the street and to show Andrew a little bit of what I grew up with.

Earlier last week, I had looked up a list of activities that were going on during the festival. There would be live bands playing all day, and to my slight dismay, I recognized the names of the first two bands. My ex plays in both of them. Magna Main isn't exactly big, and the prospect of coming face-to-face with my ex after over five years was borderline terrifying. I knew I was over that whole relationship and had been for a while, but knowing that I could possibly talk to the man who wreaked such havoc on my emotional well being for so long was freaking me out a little bit. My main solace was in knowing that if I did end up talking to my ex, I would have my current (and amazing) boyfriend by my side. The boyfriend who is absolutely everything that my ex never was. I wouldn't have to face it alone.

As we were wandering on Saturday, I could hear the music. I could hear the bass. And I was instantly reminded of how many times I had watched Mike perform in gigs. It was a little distracting to be constantly aware of just how close I was to seeing him. Andrew and I wandered down that way after the gig had ended, but when we got close enough to see the stage and the people setting up, Andrew steered me away. I had warned him of the situation, and I don't think he wanted to see Mike any more than I did. Either that or he just sensed my nerves.

But as Andrew and I headed in the opposite direction, my parents caught up to us, and my mom was determined to say hello to Mike. As she marched toward the stage, I held back for a second. And then I realized that I was okay. There was no reason not to talk to Mike. So I stood with Andrew as my mom hailed Mike. He came over. We said hello. We chatted for maybe five minutes.

It was weird.

But not because I suddenly felt a flood of emotions. Not because I was fighting to keep myself under control in the presence of the man who embodies all things that made me terrified of relationships for so long. It was weird because of how little I actually did feel. I looked at Mike, and obviously I recognized him. I recognized the scar on his finger because I was with him when he got it. I understood when he told me his fingers were bleeding from playing bass because I had seen it happen countless times before. I remembered a lot of the things we had done together. I even thought about how I used to feel about him, both the love and the anger. But . . . none of it mattered. He really had become just some guy that I knew a long time ago. (He was also talking like a responsible adult—he's been married for four years and holds a management position. That is definitely not the Mike I knew.)

As I walked away from this situation that I had contemplated for a long time (because every time I went home, I wondered if I would run into him), I thought about just how much I've grown since Mike was a part of my life. I thought about my life right now and how far I've come. I am a college graduate. I have a steady, full-time job in my field of study. I am completely independent, and I take care of myself. I have an amazingly wonderful boyfriend who treats me far, far better than I ever thought a man could be capable of treating a woman. And I am happier now than I think I have ever been.

I didn't realize it, but in going so long without so much as speaking to Mike left me without a full sense of closure. Now that we've crossed paths, I can effectively set aside everything that may have still been lingering. I've seen him face-to-face, and he holds absolutely nothing for me. Nothing. Everything that matters to me is in the here and now, and the past has nothing to do with it except that it led me here. Do you have any idea how wonderful that feels?