As quickly as the melancholy came, it left. Maybe because I got to have a real adult conversation with my son and his (maybe) girlfriend. Maybe it’s because I got into making a traditional soup for Christmas. I used to always make it, it’s my mother-in-law’s recipe, and it made my son happy.
It was probably a lot about the gongs, and what bubbled up, that memory of Scott holding my hand, that had to be let go of. Often, you don’t feel the work of the gongs, or stop feeling it, for a few days. It was all symbolic. That he wouldn’t let go of my hand, or me. That I had to let go of him. And now I have to let go of that memory. All about letting go. That’s why I remembered it then….to help me really let go.
I thought about, am thinking about, taking some soup to my ex, leaving it on his doorknob. But I think he is always there. I don’t want to run into him, really. I just feel bad for him, all alone at Christmas. I know it’s what he wants, I know he set himself up for it. But he’s been alone at Christmas since 2008. Even his sister doesn’t want him at her house. Too much chaos, bullshit, lies. It’s hard on those who cared about him. It’s why I don’t want to run into him.
This letting go stuff is hard-ass stuff. But when you can actually get there….even if it’s not forever, it’s so freeing. Maybe it’s just one layer, that I managed to let go of today, but I did it. No worse for the wear and tear. Better than holding on to a memory that was sweet…and a manipulation to make me believe I mattered. Realizing that it was Sunday, I realized now that he came to my bed from hers. Really feeling special about that one….lol. I don’t suppose she’d be feeling much different than me, if she finds out. She might…she has the link to my blog, though I don’t feel like she’s reading them anymore. Whatever. The hurt, and the beauty, of the moment is gone. A casualty of the massive deception.
But I’m still here. I’m still me. I’m still someone with a wonderful life. He didn’t kill me….Wounded, yes. But the light got in.