The first time I went to IKEA, I was with him. When I visited the store for second time a couple of months later, we were already broken up.
The first time was filled with hopes and dreams. I remember going through the showrooms and thinking, “this is the kind of kitchen that I want to have!” I remember saying, “this is going to be what our first house would look like because we’re young and not that well off yet. We’ll get a better one–like that one–when we’re richer.”
The second time was filled with realization of how those dreams are now crushed and will forever just be a dream. The things I dared to dream, and plans I dared to make, are all but a bunch of mistake I now have to forget. Those plans and those dreams all included him; but he’s gone now, and so should those plans be. It wasn’t a painful realization; it was just another moment of acceptance I had to go through, just one of the many I had to do.
Just because it doesn’t hurt anymore does not mean that I am fully recovered and have completely moved on. Rather, it means that I am moving on–a state of actively moving forward with my life. The things that I do and orient myself towards help me propel myself further away from the things that are no longer concerned or connected with my present state; moving is on a process, and like everything else, it takes time.