Threw away the Indian food leftovers...

I knew I'd never be able to eat them; they were too tightly wrought with memories. But somehow, throwing them away was going to mean finality - it wasn't all a dream. It wasn't going to suddenly become some big mistake. "Whoops, sorry pal, we're the controllers of the universe, and you just got an awful dose of what might have been. Boy, don't some alternate realities *suck*! But that's not for you, here's what really happened!"

You can avoid some things that you're afraid will hurt, but you can't live your life in fear of what is. So it was time to recognize the past, even if there's an ugly bit of irony when that recognition consists of taking something that was once very good and throwing it away.

(But because I'm that kind of weirdo, I mixed it with shredded paper so it's eligible for yard waste, and will be composted.)

So an appropriate quote from a song that's far too optimistic for me now, but nevertheless touches the spirit of the situation:

The selkie was mine as I grew from a maid
for seven sweet years we loved unafraid
but all sweet things end,
no matter how well they are made

I'd long found wisdom in that, because while relationships may survive a lifetime, they will change, and there will be endings in those changes. No sweet thing lasts forever. I just wish the ending was kind.