May 13, 2004
That irritating pop song "Cry Me a River"? I got your river, baby. Last night I finally gave up and went to bed, after blogging and watching E.R. and trying not to think. I went to bed, turned off the lights, and in that empty bed I cried and cried and cried. I cried until my face felt it was on fire. Until the pillow was soaked and I felt creases of salt under my skin.
Mr. Y and I talked very briefly sometime after the midnight mark. He was tired, stressed, and worn out. I was no picture of stability either. I don't really know where we stand this morning, I don't know where things are. My tears and sadness was no reflection on him-I wasn't broken up because of him, I was broken up because it was the end of my marriage.
X Partner Unit and I couldn't communicate. We couldn't talk to each other about our feelings. His anger was scary and relentless. But there were also a number of things about him that I liked a lot, little traits and quirks that he had that made my day. He never thought I was mental. He wouldn't leave the house without hugging me good-bye, even if it meant having to wake me up, even if we had been fighting the entire night before. He defended me, no matter what.
I cry and mourn because I hurt someone, and I hate hurting people. I cry and mourn because that era of my life really is over. I cry and mourn because it's hard when your dreams break and fall about your feet in discarded bits of folly, reminders of the silliness that dreams are.
I have a headache leveraged somewhere in the middle of my head, a combination of wine, sleeping tablet, and crying. I woke up this morning with my face the size of a dinner plate, my eyes swollen in resemblance of a hay fever sufferer camping out in a poppy field. A hailstorm of used kleenex littered the bed, clutched into odd shapes and worn balls by the contours of my hands or my body.
Mr. Y should be back soon and I hope the talks (if talks are needed even) go well. I asked him last night on the phone-can we make sure we hug each other before we leave the house? Even if we wake each other up, even if we are angry?
He said yes.
A part of me eased up and felt lighter, glad that one of my favorite quirks can still live on.
I have a letter in my head, and here is where it will remain. It won't make him feel better for me to send it, but it will make me feel better to say it, so here it is.
Dear X Partner Unit,
I am so sorry. I did love you, and always will. I will never regret you.
I want to thank you for being there for me. I want to apologize for trying to kill myself on your watch, and I want to thank you for holding me tight in that hospital, and not letting them keep me there. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn't believe in myself-with Company X, with my writing, and for not being as crazy as I think I am.
I want you to have a long and beautiful life. I want you to find someone that puts stars in your eyes and laughter in your soul. I want you to meet and date and fall in love, that dizzying spectacle of hope and fizz that falling in love is. I want you to get married and have beautiful children, lavishing them with the paternal love that I know you overflow with. I want you to grow old on the veranda, holding the hand of the person who came into your life and saved you, the one you will love above all loves, leathery hands clasped tight to each other.
It's like that song we both love-Green Day's "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)"-
For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
If you ever need a friend to talk to, I am just a phone call away.
Have a good life, baby. I will try to have one, too.
Love,
Me
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
09:03 AM
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