Dylan was sitting outside a mall on an autumn evening, his cheeseburger barely touched, a frown etched across his face. As I approached, he looked up, his eyes softening with surprise.
“Hey Bob, what a coincidence, I was just thinking of you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.
I sat down beside him and gave him a warm smile. “Hey Dylan, what happened?” I asked.
He sighed. “I can’t forget Jessica,” he said slowly. “It’s been months but this is the first Rosh Hashanah without her. Four years we were together, in love. Then she moved to a different city for work and we just parted ways. Both of us were too busy with our lives, I guess.”
He fell silent, his eyes distant, as though replaying the memories in his mind. “It feels so strange. I thought I was okay but now it’s hitting me. The first holiday without her and it feels like the end of something bigger than just a relationship.”
“Dylan,” I said gently, “I understand how hard it is. When you’ve spent so much time loving someone, their absence doesn’t just feel like an empty space; it feels like a part of you is missing.”
He nodded, his eyes focused on the ground. “I guess I just don’t know how to let go. I keep thinking I’m ready but it still hurts. How do you move on from someone who once felt like your future?”
I took a breath. “The key to letting go, Dylan,” I said softly, “is to love them enough to let them go. Not because you don’t care but because you respect the love you shared. Holding on can sometimes be a form of self-sabotage. We hold on because we think it will make the pain stop. Real freedom comes when you accept that love changes shape and that sometimes, letting go is the best way to honor what you had.”
He looked up at me, a hint of understanding in his eyes. “It’s so hard, Bob.”
“I know,” I said. “But think of it like this: You’re not erasing her from your life. You’re just letting her go to make room for your future, for the person you’re becoming. And as difficult as it is now, time will soften the edges. The memories will become bittersweet, not painful.”
Dylan took a deep breath. “I think I understand,” he said slowly, offering a small smile. “It’s not about forgetting—it’s about growing.”
I smiled back. “Exactly. It’s about making peace with what was, so you can fully embrace what’s ahead.”
To you, dear reader—if you find yourself clinging to someone or something from your past, remember this: love doesn’t disappear when you let go. It evolves. While it may be hard to imagine right now, there is so much waiting for you on the other side of the pain. Time doesn’t heal all wounds but it does make room for growth, for new experiences and for the love that’s yet to come.
Sometimes, the hardest thing is the thing that sets us free.