One Year Beren: March 17, 2005
Dear Kim,
Today marks one year since I moved out. I went out to dinner with a friend, my next-door neighbor, last night, and we talked about what I was like when I first moved in to my apartment. I was very sad. I drank frequently and to excess. I could speak of little else besides the pain of rejection and separation, and consequently, knowing how tedious it was to listen to, did not speak much at all.
I have trouble deciding whether that was a long time ago, or not so long ago. The feelings have settled down, but the memory is still fresh. Oddly, I find that most of my memory pertains to the breakup; the marriage itself feels like a foggy dream, the type which is so ubiquitous to humanity that we've all become bored with everyone else's, despite our profound fascination with our own. It must've been nice when we shared those dreams. I will share new dreams with others, but the old dream I carry alone, a vague recollection of something I'll never be able to articulate to anyone in any significant way.
The sense of loss is still very real. It's like phantom pains in an amputated limb. It's like the sudden worry that one might have left the iron on or a candle burning; so many things were left unsaid and undone. One day we were laughing and joking, and the next, I was on my knees, dumbfounded, watching the hope bleed out of me into a puddle on the floor. I remember your eyes, pitiless and cold. I wonder if I'll ever be able to let someone get so close again.
I write this to remind myself why it is that I don't call you up and ask how you're doing. Why I don't keep in touch with your family. Why I don't talk to our mutual friends. As much as I'd like sometimes to reminisce with you about some of the good things, or salvage whatever friendship there may be, or demonstrate some compassion for you, I can't get past the way you dealt with me. I can't get past the vitriol in your accusations. I can't get past the avarice you showed in our negotiations and your willingness to deceive in court.
They tell me I'm a smart man, but sometimes I'm a little slow on the uptake. Why I need to remind myself of something so obvious, I don't know, but Kim, you are not my friend.
One year ago, I packed up my stuff and moved away. The grief was unbearable. I sat in my new apartment and wondered how I'd go on without you.
Now I know.
Beren
Re:One Year lemondrop: Beren - your strength shines through here (as always).
"I remember your eyes, pitiless and cold." - this brought back a memory of my ex with cold dead eyes staring at me. *shudder*
"I write this to remind myself why it is that I don't call you up and ask how you're doing." - I read this and saw it as a good reminder to myself - thank you!
"I sat in my new apartment and wondered how I'd go on without you. Now I know." - Beren - you have such a way with words - thank you for sharing these thoughts!
Lemondrop
Re:One Year timetobefree: [quote author=Grizzly Beren link=board=25;threadid=9051;start=0#msg71594 date=1111112702">
Why I need to remind myself of something so obvious, I don't know, but Kim, you are not my friend.
[/quote">
While your entire letter is so powerful, Beren, this statement struck me. Because I struggle with the idea of being friends with my ex. But you know what? He is not my friend. You are right. Thanks for saying it so succintly. It needs no other explanation.
Take care,
Amy
Re:One Year Beren: LD, Amy,
Thanks for your kind responses :). I've been looking forward to March 17 with some dread, but now it's come and gone without any major problems or pain. I must be doing okay, huh?
Beren
Re:One Year lemondrop: Better than just ok - much better! ;D
Click More for the next page.
