How structurally sound could the foundation have been if, in a single moment of entertaining the thought that you might lose him, the resulting crack compromises its fundamental integrity?
You can choose to ignore it – this nagging damage inflicted by either self-doubt, justified fear, or some combination of both – and continue building on this same foundation. It is, after all, such a tiny crack, barely enough to label a defect in the otherwise fully in tact base. It’s a calculated gamble that sometimes pays off. Sometimes not. Because in ignoring the damage, you risk this small crack gradually morphing into irreparable gaps that grow unchecked, spreading into the building blocks resting above. This unseen threat chips away at the structure from the inside out, making itself known only in time for you both to witness the effecting crumble of all that had been laid.
The mound of ruins left in the wake of the destruction is yours to face alone; the littered debris piled at your feet all that remains as proof of the love you built. Like most surviving victims of natural disasters will tell you, the hardest part is often faced in living with the aftermath. In order to move on and start again, the ground must first be cleared, and it can’t be cleared until you find strength to work through that which you’ll find in the process. Permanently ingrained into the unsalvageable rubble are the memories of romance: fractured images of every moment you shared, muted sounds of every laugh, lingering scents in the air, echoes of sweet nothings and empty promises that you can still hear. Each and every piece compiling the ruins holds a memory too sweet to throw away, yet its jagged and filthy edges too dangerous to hold on to.
The process is grueling, and its completion won’t happen overnight. But if you can persevere, beneath the piled debris you’ll eventually find the foundation that was your death knell, and in seeing how deep and wide spread the crack from that very first doubt really is, you might wonder how it was able to stand for as long as it did. You might also wish to have condemned it yourself long ago. But hopefully, more than anything, you will feel relief – strengthened by retrospect on surviving the disaster and living through the aftermath; and then, at last, a sense of healing as you face the freshly cleared ground ahead and all its possibilities. Equipped with a toolbox full of life lessons, you know it might be years before they’re put to use, before you feel secure enough in yourself to break ground again. But you hope for that someday nonetheless, both burdened with and prepared by the knowledge in a thought that you’ll forever carry with you:
How weak a foundation must be if [even a passing moment in fear of] losing him is possible at all.