It is Easter Sunday and I catch myself daydreaming about the possibilities of “one day.”
Last Easter I woke up to a familiar weight of Aaron’s body upon the mattress, dim light filtering in through a cracked window, that crisp (and dry as hell) spring Dublin air tickling me awake. It had felt like waking up to a dream, rather than falling asleep and finding one. A day full of leisurely walks around the city, fresh blooms, and firsts. The first Easter baskets exchanged between us, the first holiday we had spent together in person, and the first time I knew I never wanted to spend another holiday without him.
This year? There is 3,500 miles and an ocean between us. His holiday is half-over by the time the cat and I wake up and the day misses all the hallmarks – the laughter, the gentle kisses, the specialness of it all- of our firsts. There are no baskets exchanged, no meals shared with one another and, as we spend the day with our respective families, it feels flat.
I find it to be one of hardest parts about being in a long distance relationship: its forced parallelisms – two individuals living concurrent lives that sometimes, in a few magic moments, cross.
It creeps on us in the quietest of moments. Cooking dinner and remembering those moments where your SO was stood beside you at the stove. Going out with friends and family and getting those sudden pangs of “if they were here…” or “they would have loved this.” Holidays come and you are meant to be comforted that you are spending them with loved ones, when, in reality, the person you want to spend it with the most is the only person you do not get to.
It is impossible to recall the number of times I have sat in crowded rooms feeling alone and homesick in my childhood home for a life lived only in small bursts, but felt like home all the same.
I offer no sage advice on the matter – there is no magic solution or “ten easy tips to stop feeling like a long distance couple.” What I can offer though is solidarity, the sharing of our own experiences and the one or two things that have brought connection in the moments where the distance feels crushing.
Aaron and I have been fortunate enough to have spent some holidays with one another: an Easter, his birthday, Christmas. Each and every one of those days are filled with priceless memories, moments of togetherness I wouldn’t trade for the world and love and laughter that will carry us through every moment of distance. For all those moments of togetherness, however, we have spent many more apart. My birthday, anniversaries, Valentines day, and innumerable days out with friends, work celebrations, and events that for every other traditional couple are attended without a second question.
I think it is the naturalness of it – or rather the lack thereof- that eats me alive some days. The knowledge that if we were a traditional couple there would be no small moment nor big one left experienced alone. No secondhanded recounts and photos just to feel part of it all. There would be only us.
I think this bitterness towards the parallelism, the second-handedness is commonplace in LDRs (a Fifth & Thames Post will be dedicated to this – so watch this space), but that bitterness does not need to be all-consuming. Finding moments of connection can make all the difference.
So, what have Aaron and I have done to build connection on these special days spent apart?
We’ve put time aside to make the day our own. Thanksgiving and Valentines day were spent with getting our normal orders from our favorite places we could find near his and mine and eating it together over video calls. My birthday and anniversary filled with surprise flowers delivered to my house (Amazon has been a life saver) and small video calls throughout the day and longer ones at night. Even this Easter, my family insisted we call Aaron so that he could take part in Easter egg coloring.
Above all positivity has made all the difference.
I am guilty of being the partner that sees all the pain of being apart rather than cherishing the time we get together in our own long-distance way. Reframing my thoughts so that I can be more present and enjoy the moments and experiences we do have, rather than the ways I would have rather spent it has led to less tears and more memories that are special and priceless in their own way.
So if you are experiencing your special moments apart – hang in there, it doesn’t get easier but it will get different and that different can be good in its own right.
