As I drove home from work yesterday I passed a beautiful woman jogging along the road. Normally delighted by this prospect, this time I was left with a certain disappointment as I believe it was an ex-girlfriend of mine. I didn’t expect that. I also didn’t anticipate the wave of emotions to come over me like they did. Granted, it wasn’t a North Shore Maui sized wave, but more of a Lake Erie scale. While it wasn’t crippling in intensity it was still there, lapping at my heart. We haven’t spoken in nearly 3 years, yet I missed her very much at that moment. I could have treated her differently. I hope she is well. Love lost, part I.
***
My evening didn’t get better after arriving home from part I. I was meeting friends for the weekly burger-night at our local and decided to stretch the legs of my ancient, hibernating BMW which required a jump start from the ancient Rover. (While it seems counter-intuitive to have a German car depend on a British electrical circuit to bring it back to life, in this case it worked. Statisticians refer to this as “an outlier.â€) The troubles of the night didn’t end there. Other trials included: a flat bicycle tire, ill-fitting headstock bearings, severe tardiness, another jump-start, and a particularly inconvenient case of The Trots (truth be told, I’ve never actually experienced a convenient case of rapid lower G.I. evacuation). All of these small inconveniences could have easily “ruined†any other night, yet they paled in comparison to the biggest surprise in store for me. After finishing our meal, my band of underlings and I walked toward the exit past the bar. It was then I noticed a newly-acquired friend of mine on a date with a newly-turned ex-girlfriend of mine. Adrenaline flooded my arteries as feelings of sadness, bitterness, and betrayal took over my conscious thought. While I knew this day would eventually come, I didn’t expect it to be so sudden, nor so debilitating. And certainly not with him. I felt discarded and lied-to by two people I thought I cared about. And now I didn’t care to see either of them ever again.
After several days’ worth of reflection on the situation and this recent relationship, I am still left with a deep sadness. We definitely had our struggles. We came from differing backgrounds politically, theologically, and parentally. There was a large age gap–she was essentially the same age as my beloved E30 327i (bonus points for those who can decipher that nomenclature.) Yet these were hurdles that we were working through, and I sincerely felt that love would prevail. Her life so far has been difficult with pain and suffering that most people in this world cannot fathom, let alone deal with. The details I will not delve into, but they would bring tears to anyone’s eyes. Despite all this, she has turned out to be a beautiful, talented, intelligent and quick-witted person. But she can’t see this, and she can’t fathom why anyone would want to be kind to her. “If you only knew what kind of baggage I am carrying…†The fact is, I knew and I didn’t care. I felt deeply that she was worth caring for. I offered to be her porter. She has so much potential to be a wonderful wife and mother, but she just can’t see this. She cannot envision becoming anything more than an object to be used. I was not willing to become her abuser. I suspect that it is because of this that she ended our relationship, possibly to protect herself from the pain I might inflict on her if I ever ended our romance down the road? A preemptive strike on the heart. This is the source of my sorrow: that she will never accept the love offered to her, the love she needs. Because of this, she will never be what she should be. She is The Beautiful Tragedy. Love lost, part II.
***
I had dinner with some friends of mine over the weekend, two of whom were brothers. We’ve grown a bit distant these past few years, and it was good to catch up again. We celebrated the highs of life over some fantastic grilled lamb. One particular high included the recent birth of a daughter. A festival of young life and young death, of sorts. We chatted for a while about what it means to be a father, the wonder of birth, the agony of cleanup, and how this child is the most beautiful girl in the world. (I’m not about to tell them differently.) Then the dialogue took a slight deflection to the subject of our own fathers. Mine will turn 74 this year and theirs, 72. Or he would, but this year marks 10 years since his death. As they mentioned this fact, their eyes took on a distant gloss, and I realized that it still cuts to the bone whenever his name is mentioned. He was a powerful figure in their lives. He defined who they are and what they believe through few words, strong discipline, and steadfast love. He taught them the value of hard work, competitive play, and dedication to family. He trained them how to make money and handle it responsibly so you can care for those in need. He led by example. In short, he brought those boys up right. The result of his years of teaching and leading is 4 grown men that would each make him very proud to call his own. Their father is gone nearly 10 years, but you would think it was 10 days when speaking with his sons. Love lost, part III.
***
Time heals all wounds, but the scarring can be disfiguring.
– from South Florida Daily