A week ago, I saw my first love again at his wifes funeral and Ive felt like my whole world has been turned upside down ever since. Im forty now, divorced for two years, and a mother of two. I truly believed Id closed every chapter of my life when it came to love, that all those old stories were finished. But seeing him again made me realise that some stories never really end.
We were together when I was seventeen. He was my first true love the sort that sits heavy on your chest, makes you scribble letters and imagine a future together. My parents, though, never approved. They said he hadnt finished school, that working as a mechanic meant hed never go anywhere, that I deserved better. The pressure was relentless. In the end, I broke it off not because I stopped loving him, but because I felt I had no choice. Shortly afterwards, my parents packed me off to study in Birmingham, and a new phase of my life began.
Years passed. I finished university, got married, had children, and built a family. Everything appeared fine from the outside, but my marriage eventually broke down, and I found myself divorced. Not long ago, I moved back to my childhood village in Oxfordshire with my children. I started reconnecting with old schoolmates, neighbours, familiar faces but never him. I never asked about him. Im not sure if it was fear, respect, or knowing that digging up those old memories would be painful.
That is, until last week. An old friend messaged: Have you heard about Tom? At first, I didnt understand. Then he told me Toms wife had passed away and his workmates were organising flowers and a small tribute at the funeral. He asked if I wanted to come along, if Id be there. I stared at my phone for a few minutes, unable to reply.
I did end up going to the funeral. I cant really say why I just felt like I had to. When I saw him standing beside the coffin, face drawn and eyes red, it hit me so hard I could hardly breathe. He wasnt that seventeen-year-old boy any more, but he was still the same person. Across the room, our eyes met. We didnt hug. We didnt speak. Just exchanged a long look. And it was enough to turn everything inside me upside down.
Since then, I cant stop thinking about him. What we were. What we werent allowed to become. How different my life could have been if I hadnt done as I was told. And I feel guilty especially now, when hes mourning. I dont want to intrude, to cause confusion or discomfort. Were not even connected on social media. We havent spoken. All of this is happening only in my head and heart.
So here I am, forty years old, with two children and what should be a settled life yet I feel like that seventeen-year-old girl falling in love for the first time all over again. I dont know if its nostalgia, longing for what never was, or if its just normal for your first love to wake feelings you thought were long buried.
What do you think? I really could use some advice.
