One day, after parting, still experiencing the remnants of the fading love… Cherishing glimpses of magical memories, like the warm light of the last rays of the sun in September… Rising on the wave of sensations again and again, warming oneself with the fragments of sensory memories of touches… Again and again, allowing the flow of endless “we,” “together,” “tomorrow,” and “will be” to sweep through our consciousness…
One day, knowing for sure that this is the end, we so do not want to kill the last traces of breath on the glass – the breath of this love… We understand that if we don’t put a period to this once and for all, we will experience the pain of loss each time and the bitterness of the awareness of happiness that has died. This period is not a death sentence. By this period, we allow our hearts to let go into the past, into the bright memory of that which cannot be returned. That which is already gone. That which lives like the unfortunate Monsieur Voldemort, a terrifying mummy whose life is maintained by suspicious magnetic passes of the “medium”—the endless returns of our consciousness to a small wound that cannot heal because of it.
The period must be placed. And HE is not involved in this. HE will have his own end and his own period for this Love. We should not disturb him. We should not stir up other people’s wounds. We should not give the other more pain than has already been given.
Place the period. Tell yourself (HIM) “Goodbye, my love! Forgive me as I forgave you. And I forgive. I let you go. I will be happy with you or without you. Because I LOVE YOU! I love you…”
After all, we know that we will always love everyone who touched our heart. And even if the second heart was cold, each one has their own.
Just to warm our heart, to not let it freeze, to not let it get lost in the abyss of meaningless suffering, we need, one day, to muster the courage to tell ourselves that NOW EVERYTHING IS IN THE PAST. To find the strength to let the bird beating in our hands fly free, wave at it, and go on. Toward a new life. In which there will be new love.
And once we honor the heart’s mourning, once we lovingly close the chapter of what was, the next step quietly emerges — to understand how to walk forward with lightness, without clinging, and with trust.
When is letting go necessary?
It’s necessary the moment fear appears — fear that something might not work out.
That fear creates an excess potential of inflated importance, and that always leads to stress — both for the body and for the energy of the situation itself.
That’s why, when a new person appears in our lives and we really like them, we often start to fear:
“What if it all falls apart? What if it’s not serious? What if it goes wrong again?”
This fear, combined with the desire for a specific outcome (“I want it to go well”) creates craving.
Craving, in turn, puts such pressure on people and the energy between them that it inevitably damages the connection.
Even if things don’t collapse immediately, everything eventually goes sideways — until a certain degree of relaxation is reached and the pressure is released.
That’s why letting go is necessary.
And letting go does not mean “I’ll never see you again.”
It simply means holding a lightness toward any possible outcome — whether that’s “we never see each other again” or “we end up happily together for years to come.”
To be more precise, there shouldn’t be any thoughts at all about how it will unfold.
No attachment to the future.
Only the understanding that whatever happens will unfold in the best possible way for the happiness of everyone involved.
Honestly, this mindset — “everything will unfold in the best way for the happiness of everyone involved” — would be ideal for every area of life.
And so, we return to letting go in personal relationships.
It’s about giving freedom for things to unfold in the best way for us.
Because the truth is, we don’t know what “the best way” looks like.
Maybe the best outcome is that this person disappears tomorrow and we never meet again.
And that’s perfectly fine.
There’s no need to suffer about it — because, as they say, if not this one, another will come; nature abhors a vacuum.