It was never meant for me

Reflections.

Not the kind staring back at you in a rippling pond.

Or the kind that glare at you through the mirror.

Or the kind you catch in the corner of your eye was you window shop.

I am talking about the kind that takes your mind on a voyage of what’s been and what ifs.

My last relationship ended sourly.

He cheated.  Lied.  Lied some more.

I was devastated.  Distraught.  Tormented. 

How could this have happened to me?

Again.

 Via

The truth is, he wasn’t brought into my life for me.  Our presence together was never about me or us. Strange statement, I admit.

The Ex was in medical equipment sales.

His clients were heart surgeons.

One of his markets was St. Luke’s Hospital in Houston.

World-renowned.

Home of The Heart Institute.

And full of fabulous heart surgeons and cardiologists.

Fab-u-lous.

Did I mention world-renowned?

Net-net…sometimes it is all about who you know in life.  My Ex is one of those examples, though it took me a while to have clairvoyance in my life to grasp this concept.

Last fall, I had to suck up my pride and call him asking for a favor.  Not just a favor like,  “Can you help me inspect my piece of shit car or can you watch my beagles while I go out of town?”  But, rather, a life changing favor.  Though, not life changing for me exactly.  I asked him to pull some strings with the physicians he worked with.  Specifically the ones at St. Luke’s in Houston. I needed him to get my Pops with a group of doctors who would treat him, diagnose him and keep him as a continued patient.  Not exactly a small favor to ask someone you aren’t exactly that fond of.

The Ex waited outside of the one of the most well-renowned heart surgeons ORs so he could talk with him and see about getting my Pops into St. Luke's for a second opinion.  He made the arrangements, called the nurses and received permission to immediately have my father scheduled with a team of cardiologists.  He did this with fervor, compassion, concern and integrity.  
Too bad he never felt that way about me.  
But, again, this isn’t a story about me.  
I realize this now.

My father is better off.  And healthy.  
Sometimes people are brought into your life but were never really meant for YOU. 

Sometimes you are just the vessel. 

Sometimes you are on the receiving end of things. 

Sometimes you are just the messenger.

 Being the messenger isn’t always a bad thing.

Or sometimes being on the receiving end of a nasty break-up isn’t the end of the world.

Sometimes it leads to the start of better things.
Much better things.
For you too.

And so it goes.