You wrote to me once, a poem I think (after hours of searching I’ve found it filed deep in “that” folder), saying that you didn’t like to leave things unfinished. More recently we have both made reference to something we said after our initial short Summer fling ended in 2014, something I guess I’ve clung on to over these past weeks, “another lifetime, hey”.
When I awoke in the midst of my mothers terminal pancreatic cancer diagnosis, with my husband laying still next to me, in Autumn 2010, I knew it was over. I’d run out of forgiveness, I’d run out of fake smiles, it wasn’t “ok” anymore, it was over. To this day it baffles me how I made that decision, seemingly without a suitable catalyst. There weren’t any rows, any angry fights, there wasn’t anyone else for me at that time, no one forcing my hand. Something inside of me really did click, we were over, the switch had been flicked, and there certainly wouldn’t be another lifetime for us. Ten years was all we were to amount to. Not a day more. I just knew.
And so the day after my mothers funeral, he packed his things and he left. We pretended for 8 weeks that we were OK. We let my mother believe that she wasn’t about to leave this world with her daughter’s life in tatters. She died believing I was ok. That we were ok. That is all I asked him to do. Gracefully, he fulfilled my last wish, he carried her coffin and then he left. By that time there were new people for both of us, crutches to support us in our grief stricken worlds maybe ? But nonetheless there were new people on both sides, and after ten years of not looking at another soul in that way the spell was broken. There certainly wasn’t any unfinished business.
Some years later you came gliding into my world. Not crashing and skidding in, like my usual type would have, no, you glided in. There was something entirely different about you. Your style maybe? Your class? Your interests being so inline with this new version of me? The way that you noticed every detail about me? I can’t pinpoint one defining factor, but you were just so very different from anyone that I had been with before.
After our first “encounter” I didn’t ever think they’d be another lifetime for us, or unfinished business even, reference prior blog posts … I didn’t think we’d see each other again. But we did. And so it began.
For almost two and a half years there have never been any plans. We never parted company knowing comfortably that we’d see each other for dinner tomorrow, or we’d be going for drinks on Saturday. Your phobia of anything that ties you to anyone or anything (not wishing to mention the forbidden “c” word) ensured that we never knew when we would be sharing a bottle of ‘tage again. We have lived with a theme of “unfinished business” for such a long time.
I don’t feel ready to move on. I don’t want to suffer shit, boring conversations and drawn out dinners with some poor guy that doesn’t set my soul on fire, simply because he isn’t you. It’s not fair on anyone to be compared to you on a daily, sometime hourly basis. Part of me wants, and maybe even needs, to fill the void, to slot another into my heart, to ease the pain. But they won’t be hot and clammy like you, they won’t know every inch of me like you did, their hand won’t fit into mine, they might hate my “monster munchers”, they won’t understand that I have a tendency to give aggy bosses a double middle finger, as I strutt out of their office, just to prove a point. They won’t instantly know that I love to be outside, with nature, that really I’m not as tough as I appear, that I want to be wrapped up in a warm towel after a bath, that I love to wear your shirt in the morning and they won’t know how to make the holes in my face appear.
I don’t want my toothbrush in anyone else’s toothbrush holder, I don’t want confirmed weekend plans with anyone else, I have no interest in meeting the important people in their life. I don’t want holiday plans with them. I wanted those things with you, and I can’t imagine ever wanting them with anyone else. It doesn’t mean I won’t try. But maybe it’s my glass half empty attitude, the realist in me, I honestly think I am going to have to settle for that “clickless” life that I have feared every time we’ve been more off than on. I certainly can’t imagine feeling the way that I have felt about you with anyone else.
As I lay in a bath full of bubbles, legs dangled over the edge, forcing myself to try and relax last night, I wondered to myself whether I felt the way I did about you because I couldn’t have you, or whether it really was love, the once-in-a-lifetime kinda love.
As devastated as the sheer lack of the unmentionable “c” word has left me, how much it has hurt to have you in my life in that capacity, how worthless that made me feel in the end, the click and the connection that we had – makes it all worth it somehow. But what we had has set that bar so high in terms of connection, I’m beginning to worry that when I wrote about our click some months ago I was right.
Still now, after months of not having you in my life, with your move drawing ever closer I still wonder if we are each other’s unfinished business? I dread the dates ahead with the un-clickables, and how each time I am in an un-clickables company it just further reminds me of what we had and what we could have had ….
You kept me up all night,
But not like you used to,
No passion, didn’t feel right,
No pressing on your tattoo.
Thinking ’bout how we got here,
From such a special night,
Didn’t know I’d feel the fear,
And you would cling so tight.
The ‘one day’ list haunts me still,
I always hated things unfinished,
Maybe one day it’ll be real,
But for now sadly it’s diminished.
Perhaps it was supposed to happen,
You meant to lead me here,
I’ve had to pass the baton,
And cross the line of fear.
In another lifetime, we always said,
I guess thats what it is now,
Until then you’ll be in my head,
As I work on ‘how?’.