When do we roll the credits?

Airports are a writer's best friend. Last weekend I flew to SanFrancisco for a friend's wedding, which meant getting to Logan airport 2 hours early, and a six hour flight to California - might I also mention that it was a child-free trip. That meant I had at least 7 hours to myself. Now this could be a good thing, if I could only get the voices in my head to cooperate with me a little bit.
But sometimes, having too much time also means I have time to hyperfocus on my life and the choices and decisions I've made. And that is exactly how I spent my time that day.
When do we call the official time of death for a relationship? Is it the moment we feel the spark flicker and go out? Or the day we gather enough courage to speak up and verbalize our feelings to our significant other, I'm just not happy anymore. What about the physical death? Or is it the day he moves his belongings out of the house, when your books are no longer lined up against his, their hard spines somehow softened. And there always comes a moment when you find an artifact from the relationship...a cd he left behind or a book of love poems he gave you. And all of a sudden, you can't breathe because the feelings are back from the dead.
I once thought that if I had the courage to erase that last voicemail he left, if I could just press 7 to delete instead of 9 to save, that would be the end. As if I could erase him along with his message. And then there is the calendar with its glaring little boxes filled with future promise. The plans we made together. The days come and pass with only that little pen mark, beach or wedding in SanFrancisco or trip to Arizona marked on them as indelible reminders that at one time, there were plans. At one time, there were anniversaries and birthdays and shared memories.
But the really difficult relationships are the ones in a coma. They've gone on for years, even though your heart may have grown back to fill the empty space left behind. These are the most dangerous of all. This is when you remember what his skin felt like under your palm at 3am, or the way he reached for you in the early dawn, and the way his eyes said everything with one glance. Those are the relationships Hollywood thrives upon and the stories told by great writers. And the ones that can destroy you.

Time of death: right now.