On Tears, Fears and Part Three of the Story of My Greatest Heartbreak

August 2001.

Our summer together was magical. Every weekend we would hop in the car and drive. We discovered many of Oregon’s hidden treasures and spent so much time just being in love. My college years were behind me and I was looking forward to a life with Marcus.

It was on one of those drives that I got my first glimpse of the end. I did not, however, realize it until it was far too late. We were pulling off the highway, heading back to Marcus’s place. The day had been beautiful, full of sun and laughter and holding hands. It felt as if nothing could ever be wrong.

Before we got to his apartment, however, Marcus pulled the car over for no apparent reason. When I asked him what was wrong, he burst into tears.

At first he could not speak. His crying turned into sobbing and it seemed as though he was having trouble breathing. I was scared. I was confused. I didn’t know what was happening and I had no idea what I should be doing. I simply sat there and watched my boyfriend break down.

Finally he calmed down enough to speak. “I really love you,” he said between sobs.

“I love you too.” It was all I could think to say. I knew he loved me and he knew I loved him. It made no sense to me that our love would cause him to break into hysterical crying.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I love you so much and I feel like I can’t express to you just how much you mean to me.” He reached for me and held on to me as if he were afraid I would simply disappear into thin air and be lost forever. “It hurts me that you may never know how much I truly love you.”

I was terrified. Something was clearly wrong and I had no sense of what it could be. Grown, rational men did not behave the way Marcus was behaving. As his tears soaked through my shirt, I held on to him and tried my best to fight back my own tears. I didn’t want to cry with him. I was too afraid of whatever had made him cry in the first place. I did not want to share in it. I did, however, want to comfort him. I wanted him to know that I did know how much he loved me and that I loved him the same way. I wanted him to know that nothing was ever going to come between us. But more than anything, I wanted him to stop crying.

Eventually he calmed down enough to drive us the rest of the way home. We had dinner and watched television. By the time I climbed into bed beside him, he seemed to be his old self once again. We told each other that we loved each other and he fell asleep. My declaration of love did not induce tears from him.

Deep in the night I awoke and looked over at him. I wondered what had happened. What had made him lose control like that? Was he really just overcome with love for me or was there something more? I did not have the answers and I did not know if I ever would.

I just wish I had known then that that was the beginning of the end.