Saudade:

Strangers
Acquaintances
Friends
Best Friends
Strangers

It's funny how these five little words can break my heart that way. There's nothing more painful than looking at a person remembering how much you have shared together and how close you were in the past and knowing that it will never return.

No word exists in English to describe this feeling but the Portuguese came up with a word. Saudade. It refers to a deep emotional state of nostalgia or profound melancholic longing for an absent someone or something that one loves. The feeling is accompanied by the repressed knowledge of knowing that the object of longing will never return.

That's how I feel right now. Saudade.

I reach with trepidation into my past. I flip through old pictures, messages and mails. Could it be that we were once so close, I marvel. It feels like ages ago, a lifetime away.

Not everyone is meant to stay in your life, I've been told. Some come in for a reason, a season, to accomplish something, maybe teach you a lesson or just simply be there when no one else was around. And once they fulfill that purpose, they leave just as suddenly as they entered.

"How do I know?" I think to myself. "How do I know if this person was meant to stay or leave?"

When the wrong person leaves your life, the right things start happening.

The right things are happening now, I realize grimly. So he was meant to leave. I've discovered new things, old things and good things about myself. I discovered that I am funny and playful. Discovered that I am quite capable of love. Found out that I'm not angry and unpleasant all the time but on the contrary quite fun to be with.

I see him talking and laughing with people. Foolishly I think of running towards him and whacking him on the shoulder playfully like I used to. I want to share the things that have been happening to me without a care in the world. I want to laugh and pull his leg like before. I want to pretend like none of this ever happened.

I restrain myself. Our eyes meet. I walk towards him with slow, paced steps. We make polite, insignificant conversation.

"How have you been?" he asks.

"Fine" I say. "No, I'm not fine." I think.

"I'm good." he says.

I fiddle with my hands. He shuffles his feet awkwardly.

"How's work? he enquires.

"Good" I reply. "How's college?"

"Not bad."

Silence.

I've run out of things to talk about, I realize. We smile awkwardly at each other. I'm torn between wanting to linger and getting away from there as far as possible.

His eyes speak volumes. I want to ask so much. What's been happening in your life all this time? I've missed you, I want to say. I wonder if he feels the same.

The look in his eyes. Something was different. He had changed. Sadder, more mature.

Well, I had changed too.

We part awkwardly. I walk slowly towards my car, my heart heavy. My throat itches painfully. Despite the sadness that envelopes me like fog; I'm glad. Glad that I feel pain at all. Glad that I have a healthy, good, strong heart that is full of love. One who didn't love cannot possibly feel this way.

Glad to be human. I know I am beautiful in my brokenness. I silently give thanks to God for filling me with love.

A drop rolls down my cheek and hits the pavement. How strange, I think as I touch my wet face.

It must be raining.