Farewell, my friend

Dear Boy,

I’m smiling a little as I write this. “Meteora” is playing, loudly enough that I can hear the lyrics and cannot dismiss it merely as background noise. What a prophetic choice this turned out to be—do you remember my not knowing about any of the music in your car collection? That morning I was tired, slightly hung over, and a bit out of sorts, so rather than try to force my mind to work too hard deciding, I let my intuition guide my CD selection. In my world experience, which certainly does differ very much from yours, there is rarely any such thing as coincidence. Anyway, I liked this music that day (and BTW, I also liked riding in your little red race car with you exuding your boyishness) and now that I’m home and letting my mind wander, I like it even more.

So, just as you were feeling awkward the day I left, I too felt that way. It has taken me a few days to understand what I feel—and why—and I will try my best to articulate this to you as an attempt for more peaceful, easier feelings between us. In fact, it was the awkwardness, the uncertainty of resolution, that I didn’t want to leave behind.

There are some really important things I learned from you, which underlie my feelings, and which I tried in part to explain that morning when we were in the airport. I don’t know if this time it will be any clearer, but I will try.

About two months after my diagnosis, I felt the need to connect, to love and be loved, to find joy that might help me cope. Coming out of a long term abusive relationship had pretty much destroyed my self worth, and any remnant was quickly consumed shortly after starting my treatment. Losing my hair, battling my weight and the injustice of steroids, the near instantaneous drug-induced launch into menopause, and the prospect of losing my breasts (these are actually the least unpleasant side effects, but I think you get the idea)—all of this left me full of fear and distress (not to mention the angst over whether I will actually survive). I wanted nothing more than to crawl into the arms of a loved one and hear that no matter what, that these are silly, shallow things, and that me, my essence, my being are still here--beautiful and lovable as ever--and that in the end this will pass and it will all be ok.

When I realized this is what I most wanted, you were the one who came to my mind immediately (and I do mean immediately, even thought it had been 20+ years). You see, when we were younger, you were the one person who could make me feel safe, and make me feel like everything really was ok—my haven, of sorts. As I explained to you, my feelings for you were based on my love for you as a person—a love that was slow to develop, that grew as I learned more about you, and that to this day, was deeper than any romantic love I have ever experienced. It was not your appearance, but rather you, that was the basis for my attraction. After spending plenty of time chasing “cute” boys (and even eventually marrying one), I became even more certain that what I had felt for you all those years ago was true and meaningful and the best way to really love another person. I will never forget the evening we kissed in your bedroom on Elm St. For about a week or so prior, I walked around in a daze, thoroughly confused and trying to understand why the most handsome boy in the world had been there all along without my having seen you that way before. This realization was so startling that I am sure it caused the nervous jitters that led to my clumsiness when I leaned over to you for that first kiss.

So in my present state of mind, you were the obvious (and only) person to whom I would let myself go. In my mind, I remembered your love for me being based on me, with not much thought to the external. And maybe this was true then; even if not, I prefer not to know, as I would like to hold my idealized memory of us as I have kept it all these years. Regardless, I do understand that as adults we differ, and I respect the fact that what I more recently had wanted for us is not possible.

When I think about it, despite not getting all that I had wanted, I did find some of what I had been looking for. You held me up and led me through some of my darkest moments, and did give me hope that somehow, some way things will one day be ok. I now realize that I can carry this hope with me always—it need not necessarily be linked with you—and this is a remarkable gift. Thank you for bringing this to my life, and I will never forget that this is now a part of me.

So with this all said, I would like to leave the past in the past, and wish you well, my friend. I will always love you—that boy I knew so long ago—and am grateful for the many joys you have shared with me (and even for the not so enjoyable times, too, since they also were occasions to grow and to learn). No regrets on my end—I am happy to have tried, and content that I will no longer carry the question of “what if ?”. Perhaps one day we may resume a friendship, but for now, I think it best for both of us to let it be. I had told you a while back that I would never ask for more than you can give, and I mean it.

And remember, I do not believe in coincidence so if we happen to meet again, it will not be by my design and I will be yours with a smile…

Violet

Running Violet done R-U-N-N-O-F-T to Chi-town!!

This was one of the most surreal experiences I've had in years, save the day of diagnosis (well ok, and the couple of weeks the kids and I spent in hiding, since one day I may take us into that story). Anyway, as I drove the highway en route to the airport, I don't think I will ever forget how I felt so damn liberated, and slightly naughty, and just plain amused over what seemed like the first time in forever, doing something that I (me! just me!) really wanted to do. Onto the plane, letting my mind wander in and out of my i-Pod, my long-lost inner bad grrl channeled through every beat, letting me know how much she missed me and how saddened she had been over the past couple of decades of her abandonment. Between enjoying this reacquaintance, and nervous jitters over seeing Boy, I actually was more than a little disappointed to have landed so quickly.

Boy was in a great mood and I immediately knew that this visit was the right decision. I had wavered so much on whether to postpone, but doubt and second guesses dissipated within the first five minutes. After arriving at his place, we had a brief walk around his neighborhood (including a stop into his "local"), I had a short nap, and we ventured out again for a comfort dinner. Movie night with the much long-awaited sofa snuggling and off to bed for a night of my waking up many times over, giggling to myself, "Running Violet is in Chi-ca-go-ooo, in Boy's be-e-e-ed, with no-o-o-o clothes on!". A luxurious and ever so tiny bit of a lascivious wake-up, and on to his Mom's house (where, if you must know, dear reader, is where it all began), for a truly enjoyable visit, with a satisfying amount of bantering the past and present to properly kick off the first full day.

Of course there are lots more details, but they are still swimming 'round in my head, and I am for the most part enjoying the process of unraveling one thought from another in this tangled heap. For once, my mind is not racing in its usual triple type-A, hypercompetitive, get-the-fuck-out-of-my-way-I'm-not-stopping-til-the-end mode, and I do not feel compelled to understand all of it, nor all at once. There is a warm glow connecting my heart with my mind and I am content to let understanding unfold at its own pace. Funny how it was not much like I had envisioned it would be--nor was it even what I had thought I wanted it to be--but I know it was good and right and true to what Boy and I both needed. Cannot wait for another visit and I am intrigued by where and how it may go. I am so damn lucky to have found my friend and am going to do whatever I can to make sure we don't screw it up again.