I first heard the song “Where does the good go”  (by Tegan and Sarah) on Grey’s Anatomy.     My favorite line is “It’s love that leaves and breaks the seal of always thinking you would be real happy and healthy, strong and calm, where does the good go?”  It’s a damned good question.  Where DOES the good go?

Approximately two weeks after the break-up of the longest relationship I’ve ever been in (18 months), I am constantly assaulted by good memories of my Ex.   I’ve been in the office all weekend working on a big file, and I’m remembering all the times he would knock on the office window and tell me that I’ve been working too hard and need to take a break for dinner.  I was going to have lunch at White Spot today, and then I realized I couldn’t because we had our first kiss in the White Spot parking lot.

I drove around in the car with the stereo blasting, singing along to breakup songs (such as “Gives You Hell” by the All American Rejects), which  was  quite therapeutic….until I remembered how we used to sing duets together in the car on road trips.

I perused the shelves at Books & Company and saw copies of the books I bought him for Valentine’s Day.  That made me remember the two books that I made for him, in addition to those I bought:  one was a little book called “31 things I love about you” , and another was a book of coupons for various good deeds (washing dishes, shoveling snow, and …uh…other…more….inappropriate favors…)

The Valentine’s Day memory stings the most, because it makes me wonder what he did with the books I made him.   He probably threw them in the garbage.  I can just see my little hand-made books in a trash bag, sandwiched in between a banana peel and a pizza box. (Now there’s an image that spells “the relationship is over—accept it and move on” !)

I remember the look on his face as he sat on his couch and opened the presents.  He smiled and said he was impressed by my creativity.  A month and a half later, he sat on the same couch without the smallest trace of a smile.  We had been having a banal conversation about tv shows.  He looked at me and out of the blue he said “We’re done”.    In a month and a half we went from a heartfelt Valentine’s Day to a three syllable goodbye.

The good times were so good that the ending felt like a broken promise.  (In fact, I’m still in denial that it ended at all.  I keep hoping he’ll call and say “I made a mistake, let’s work it out”.  I’ve decided to be more realistic and hope for a call from Steven Spielberg offering me a movie  deal instead).

As a family law practitioner, I shouldn’t be surprised.  People break their promises every day: couples who said “till death do us part” in front of their friends and family find themselves saying “he/she is evil and I’m an angel” in front of a judge.  What could I possibly have expected from a kiss in the White Spot parking lot and an off-tune rendition of “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” on the way to Fort St John?

At the end of the day it doesn’t matter where the good went.  It only matters that it is gone.   I just hope I can find it again someday.

In the meantime, I’m going to have to either move or have a lobotomy because the entire city is filled with memories of him.