Continuation of the "rambling"

Continuing my previous rambling ...

Perhaps I did love Brandon then. I remember being horribly heartbroken. I knew that our relationship could not last much longer, even though I wanted it to more than anything. I knew that it was going to come to an end soon, and that if I didn't end it myself, I would be horribly heartbroken. And I couldn't see past the heartbreak. But I couldn't end it, I couldn't think of what words to say.
This was the fourth time in my life that I had been truly heartbroken, when I could literally feel my heart ache as it was shred into tiny pieces. The first time was when I realized that I would never have a "normal" relationship with my father. the words he spoke to me - in anger, fear, disappointment, sorrow, truth?, I don't know - still ring in my head. The second was when my Grandfather passed away. The first man that I truly loved. That I gave everything for and to. His last words - I love you, Kate. Make me proud! - echo in everything I do. The third was the third time that my Grandmother battled cancer. I get my courage, bravery, and strength from her - the strongest woman, no, person that I ever knew.
And then there was the fourth. Brandon. The words that he spoke to me that night were not in anger or hatred but in pity and sorrow. He knew me better than anyone else, save for myself and my mom. He knew that by breaking up with me, by breaking my heart, he would be breaking me (or at least the part of me that was then). he learned, grew, and matured in the five and a half years we were together. There were times when he tried to end it before - through anger, words of hatred and disgust, and cheating - but he always came back. This time was different. His voice wasn't steady, it shook. I could hear his tears fall simoltaneously with mine. "Call your mom, Iaisha, friends. You're going to need them." He told me. "Don't try to contact me in any way, or my friends or family."
The words "I fell apart" do not even begin to describe all that happened after he hung up the phone. While on the phone, I cried, like he was dying, I begged him not to do this, I directed words of anger and hurt toward him. But I was still in a state of shock. It was like I was watching it all happen from inside a bubble. As soon as he pushed END, the bubble popped and everything rushed in on me. I felt all of the emotions at once and didn't know what to do. I just sat there. And cried. For thirty minutes straight.
Then, I called my mom - at midnight, while crying hysterically. Naturally, she was immediately worried and all I could get out was "He broke up" "Who? What? What happened?" "Brand." (I couldn't say his full name). "He dumped." - More crying. - "Me." This was followed by "Oh honey. I'm so sorry. Look. Try to get some rest tonight and I will call you tomorrow." (Rest, just like the 19th century doctors always said, was always her solution.) In her head, she was probably saying, "That son of a bitch. I'm going to kill him if I ever get the chance." And despite the "get rest" advice, I didn't get any. I went into work the next day with half an hour of horrible sleep. So when I wasn't crying, I was falling asleep at my desk. My co-workers - who knew the on-going problems and continuously tried talking me into breaking up with him - saw my face and the following scene ensued:
Denise: You finally did it?
I shook my head.
Jamie: He didn't...
Tears started rolling out of my eyes and down my face.
Denise: That Bastard...
I nodded my head and started bawling.
I was sent home after two hours of this - crying and sleeping, no work being done. Well, not really sent home but taken home, Jamie drove my car and Denise followed us. As soon as they left, my mom called and I tried to explain everything that happened.