Knowing the guy for as long as I did, meant I knew what he was thinking and feeling, and although I knew I had already lost the fight I had come prepared for, I read every single word on that handwritten letter I wrote, until the very last full stop. When I had finished, tears pulsed on the edges of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall, I was determined to stand composed and held together. Still standing, I asked him if he wanted to say anything and without taking his eyes off mine, he shook his head slowly 'no'. I saw tears welling up in his dark brown eyes, but he didn't let them fall through his thick, long black eyelashes, so to prevent us from both crying, I gestured him to stand up to touch me. I offered my hand so we could hongi, or press noses. This acknowledgement gesture of bridging two people together, was what lifted the sacredness off of us so we could proceed with our separation agreement.
And for me, knowing we had acknowledged our culture, and our families both living and passed on, made me comfortable to know we had covered all our bases to do what we needed to do, correctly.