May 13, 2004

The Things I Want For You

Sitting here this morning, packaged up in my living room with a whole Bodum of coffee at my disposal. The sky is grey outside, and the temperature hovers around the "wear a jacket" temperature. Today needs to be a good day, it needs to be a better day. It needs to be a time when I look forward and realize that this is the bed that I made, and my bed has someone else in it.

That irritating pop song "Cry Me a River"? I got your river, baby. Last night I finally gave up and went to bed, after blogging and watching E.R. and trying not to think. I went to bed, turned off the lights, and in that empty bed I cried and cried and cried. I cried until my face felt it was on fire. Until the pillow was soaked and I felt creases of salt under my skin.

Mr. Y and I talked very briefly sometime after the midnight mark. He was tired, stressed, and worn out. I was no picture of stability either. I don't really know where we stand this morning, I don't know where things are. My tears and sadness was no reflection on him-I wasn't broken up because of him, I was broken up because it was the end of my marriage.

X Partner Unit and I couldn't communicate. We couldn't talk to each other about our feelings. His anger was scary and relentless. But there were also a number of things about him that I liked a lot, little traits and quirks that he had that made my day. He never thought I was mental. He wouldn't leave the house without hugging me good-bye, even if it meant having to wake me up, even if we had been fighting the entire night before. He defended me, no matter what.

I cry and mourn because I hurt someone, and I hate hurting people. I cry and mourn because that era of my life really is over. I cry and mourn because it's hard when your dreams break and fall about your feet in discarded bits of folly, reminders of the silliness that dreams are.

I have a headache leveraged somewhere in the middle of my head, a combination of wine, sleeping tablet, and crying. I woke up this morning with my face the size of a dinner plate, my eyes swollen in resemblance of a hay fever sufferer camping out in a poppy field. A hailstorm of used kleenex littered the bed, clutched into odd shapes and worn balls by the contours of my hands or my body.

Mr. Y should be back soon and I hope the talks (if talks are needed even) go well. I asked him last night on the phone-can we make sure we hug each other before we leave the house? Even if we wake each other up, even if we are angry?

He said yes.

A part of me eased up and felt lighter, glad that one of my favorite quirks can still live on.

I have a letter in my head, and here is where it will remain. It won't make him feel better for me to send it, but it will make me feel better to say it, so here it is.

Dear X Partner Unit,

I am so sorry. I did love you, and always will. I will never regret you.

I want to thank you for being there for me. I want to apologize for trying to kill myself on your watch, and I want to thank you for holding me tight in that hospital, and not letting them keep me there. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn't believe in myself-with Company X, with my writing, and for not being as crazy as I think I am.

I want you to have a long and beautiful life. I want you to find someone that puts stars in your eyes and laughter in your soul. I want you to meet and date and fall in love, that dizzying spectacle of hope and fizz that falling in love is. I want you to get married and have beautiful children, lavishing them with the paternal love that I know you overflow with. I want you to grow old on the veranda, holding the hand of the person who came into your life and saved you, the one you will love above all loves, leathery hands clasped tight to each other.

It's like that song we both love-Green Day's "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)"-

For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

If you ever need a friend to talk to, I am just a phone call away.

Have a good life, baby. I will try to have one, too.



Posted by Everydaystranger at May 13, 2004 09:03 AM | TrackBack


Posted by: plumpernickel at May 14, 2004 08:01 AM

Via Denny, I came here yesterday and found a beautiful blog written by a beautiful person. You're in my thoughts, Miss Helen.

Posted by: Rhesa at May 14, 2004 07:50 AM

"If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans".

G-d must be rolling on the floor in side splitting laughter when it comes to me and some dear friends of mine then.

Helen...your pain is a teacher for many. I know that isn't the right thing to say to make you feel better but I have no idea what to say to make you feel better. It's all I got.

I'm thinking of you a lot. You know where to find me should you need me. Any time.

Posted by: Serenity at May 14, 2004 12:07 AM

I know the grief is hard, but try to temper it by knowing you did the best thing for both of you. Its a cruel joke life plays on us, almost always seems the right thing to do is the hardest.

Hang in there Helen, it will get better


Posted by: Dane at May 13, 2004 09:01 PM

**hugs** to you darlin. ends always hurt. it's good that you are grieving though, that's an important part to moving on. *muah*

Posted by: kat at May 13, 2004 07:05 PM

I'm sorry you're hurting.

Here's some unasked for advice to anyone who'll listen. Don't make your own happiness your primary goal. Make your spouse's happiness your primary goal and let them know it. You'll be surprised at how much happier you become and how quick you can shake the "blues" when you focus on someone else's happiness.

Jesus' message (whether you believe he's the Messiah or not) is timeless: serve others not yourself.

Posted by: Solomon at May 13, 2004 06:35 PM

This has happened to me twice before. The pain of this kind of loss is amazing, but the whole point was for both of us to find more happiness. The mourning is painful but required for the peace of mental health. But you know that.

I appreciate the honesty and power of your expression. You're a gifted person and you deserve happiness. A friend and I were talking about this a few days ago after my son's wedding. We concluded one needs to choose well, work hard at the relationship, and get lucky with the chancy stuff. I wish you all of that.

Posted by: Denny at May 13, 2004 06:03 PM

I wouldnt send it just like that...

Posted by: pylorns at May 13, 2004 05:52 PM

That reminded me of a saying- "If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans".

I guess that is to say that life has things in store for you, and they'll be good, even if they're not what you thought they'd be.

That was a great post, as always- I felt what you wrote.

Posted by: Allison at May 13, 2004 04:52 PM

*even more hugs*

Posted by: Gudy at May 13, 2004 03:27 PM

What a bunch of emotional mess you've had to endure the past couple of days...and have PMS. I feel for you.

Posted by: Marie at May 13, 2004 03:02 PM

I'm sorry for your hurt.

Posted by: Amynah at May 13, 2004 01:46 PM

That was beautiful. I agree, maybe you can't mail it now, but somewhere down the road, you can.

Posted by: amber at May 13, 2004 01:41 PM

*more hugs*

Posted by: Easy at May 13, 2004 01:11 PM


Posted by: melanie at May 13, 2004 09:59 AM

Oh Helen, you always make me teary...that's a beautiful letter, maybe you can't send it right now, but I hope that one day, you do.

Posted by: nisi at May 13, 2004 09:40 AM
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