Maybe I’m just tired tonight. It’s getting late for me, because I’m up so early. Maybe it’s because I was alone all day.

But I’m sad. Just, sad. I miss him, and I don’t. I remember how I loved him and I don’t anymore, but I miss loving him. I used to be able to call his name in my head, and I’d hear from him. I don’t now. I think about calling him that way, and then every version of the conversation that could possibly take place runs through my head and it’s never good, it never serves any purpose except to re-open old wounds.

I wish I could just let go. I wish I had no connection to him except the 18 months that I knew him. I wish I never knew what he felt, and I wish I had never called his name and had him answer. I wish he’d never said to me, “if something happened to you, I’d know. I’d just know.” Because if that’s true, he knows right now how my heart aches. And I believe it’s true, that he knows. Because I know when his does.

Right now, I know he doesn’t blame me, he doesn’t hate me. But he never wants to talk to me again, because it reminds him of how utterly stupid and self-absorbed and self-centered he is. And what he lost because of it. He knows he cannot hide from me, because he knows that my soul and his recognize each other over the lifetimes, even if he says, “We can’t know that…” Instead of me reminding him of the light that shines somewhere under all those layers of darkness that he hides under, I remind him of how he put his own interests ahead of everyone, and ended up with nothing and no one. A barren landscape that once held so much promise.  I never wanted to bring him shame. 

Why do I even care? I am strong, independent. I have created my life so that I can live it out the way I want to, and don’t need anyone. But I wanted him, I think that has gone on for a very long time. I knew this when we met, I knew that I already knew him.

I read a couple of old blogs from the 3 days over which the truth became known in November. I don’t know why I read them, maybe I was just trying to keep the memory of my disgust, my amazement at the depth of what he did, alive so I wouldn’t miss him, so I’d see how utterly without conscience he was.

I remembered all of that, but then I also remembered when I loved him. I also remembered when the end started, and I also remembered how I kept asking him to just let me go. I remembered how it unraveled slowly all summer and then he let it build back up, he pretended we were going to be together in the way I’d dreamed of for months. He let my emotions crescendo, maybe because he wanted to feel how much I loved him just one last time, just before he destroyed me.  It’s hard for me to imagine that he didn’t purposefully cause me all that pain.

I found this poem I wrote one week after I last talked to him, the day that she got my letter and I told him he was dead to me.  I’m going to put it here again, because I think it’s pertinent to the way I feel tonight. It’s called “Awaiting Transformation”

Day dawns,

First light glows the horizon

Soft pink

Where heaven meets earth.

The sky still indigo directly above,

With one solitary star still visible

On this cold clear November morning.

The trees are bare,

The earth in New England settles down

For a long winter nap.

All of the the past year’s leaves and flowers

Lay on the ground

Ready to begin their transformation.

We mourn their passing,

Yet

At the same time

We know at the first breath of spring

They will arise to become

something once again beautiful.

I will rest with them

Let my heart

Heal in the warm unconditional love

of the universe

All the pieces I have so carefully put back together,

And the ones I have not found yet,

Will meld together again,

Become whole once more.

I will leave the old hurts in the ground with the leaves

Covered in the blankets of snow

Knowing that the spring will come.

Awaiting transformation.