Closure: A True Story

I used to think there was no such thing as closure. I think I was wrong. The spell I was under has finally broken.  Ah, sweet closure.  I think I've had it for a few days, but I just realized that I have it. And so the writer's blessing and curse, I have to write about it.  Before work.  If I don't it will gnaw on me all day.  So here it goes.

Anyone who knows me, knows how hard I fell for HER.  What wasn't to love?  She was and is a smart, beautiful, and courageous woman.  She turned into a great mother of my girls.  She is a wonderful person.  I truly wish her the best.

We met in 1991 through mutual friends. It will be 20 years on August 31. I had heard about her a little bit. They said I would like her. When I first laid eyes on her, she was about 30 feet away. That was it. I fell in love. We did the shy dance of attraction, and at the end of the night we shared our first kiss. It was the real thing.  And it lasted for me until just now. It was enough to make it worth it to do whatever she wanted. Except eventually she realized that she didn't want me anymore. That's when the real pain started. I was a clueless fool, oblivious to the possibility that this person might feel about me any different than I did about her. So I fought it.

When she finally made what was obvious to others obvious to me, it was a shattering experience. I couldn't understand it. We did the painful dance of untangling our lives. The State of Connecticut helped us end what they had officially joined together. But I wasn't done fighting. I was hanging on to hope. "My God, when would this woman come to her senses?" I thought and said and screamed and cried in every possible way. My barely existent introverted ego went AWOL on me. I was hospitalized twice. But I began to heal. It's painful surgery to break away from your soul-mate. I was getting happy. I was making progress. I wasn't a bad person to know. I enjoyed my own company. Some days more than others. This slow healing has been going on for two and a half years now. Then she dropped a bombshell.

"We need to talk," she e-mailed me a few weeks ago.
"Oh, no," I thought. I knew what was coming. We didn't talk much anymore, just enough to keep the practical things in line for the kids. This wouldn't be good. My heart was pounding and my mind was racing.

She called later that evening.

She told me that she was with someone and it was serious. I'm not stupid but I've learned to confirm facts instead of assuming.
"Are you getting married?"
"Yes," she said as gently as possible. She had been trying to spare my feelings for a while now. My God, she was so nice, even now, especially now.
It felt like the day she walked in the room and told me she didn't love me anymore and wanted a divorce. "Oh God, I can't take this anymore." I cried. I prayed. I struggled with the stress of it. I couldn't look at her at the last kid exchange.

I started to notice a few days ago that I had more energy. I started this blog on Tuesday. I've been writing and reaching out more to others. What was this? It finally hit me this morning. In the shower.

"What was I thinking?" I thought. All of those years. All of that beautiful vulnerability at the heart of true love.
The strong love that brings children. The love when she's in surgery and you wish you could take her place. That beautiful face on the pier when I returned from sea so many times. That love that makes your knees buckle when you finally see her in her wedding dress. Those sweet tender moments that happen every day between the hustle and bustle. What was I thinking? The answer? I wasn't. I was possessed by my own projection of another human being. No one could live up to what was in my head, this goddess I had created to fill the void in my own soul. I snapped out of it. I have fallen out of love. I hope it lasts. For those of you lucky enough to be in a loving relationship, please treasure it for the sake of those of us who had to let it go. To take the words that Charlie Parker used to describe heroin: If there's anything better, God kept it to himself.