Death-Cheating

Just after my last post of 2008, a good friend of mine passed away.

That was the start of my hiatus.

I found out, quite literally, about 5 minutes before I was leaving to go to a memorial service. (I don’t know if that’s ironic or appropriate) I was… a mess the entire day. The Memorial service was for the father of my cousin’s husband (we were there showing him support as he’s done for us), but I obviously had something else on my mind.

I don’t know if I’d consider myself good or bad at dealing with Death. I suppose it’s something that no one is either “good” or “bad” at. Frankly, I’m curious to know exactly how a “good dealing of Death” would go. Does it involve a lot of crying? No crying? A zen-like calmness and a “c’est la vie”? Crying and getting drunk *until* you get to a zen-state of c’est la vie?

My earliest memory of anything involving death was my brother waking me up one dark morning and telling me our Bampi (My Mom’s Father) had died. I was really young… probably no more then 6. I have vague recollections of the man, mostly just sitting in the background of family gatherings from that side. My brothers and I were deemed “too young” to go to the funeral.

The first wake I went to… I don’t remember who it was for. It was for a distant relative, one I don’t think I had any recollection of… we either saw them rarely or not at all. I was probably 10 or 11. The only thing I could think of was how I really didn’t think I wanted to see a dead body (yes, despite all the violence on TV, I was hip enough to know the difference between that and reality. Go figure.)… and I was actually relieved to find it was a Closed-Casket. That relief was short-lived however. After getting a drink of water, I saw my dad standing in the middle of the foyer of the funeral home. He motioned me over, so I went… and he pointed into one of the other wings (where there was another wake going on), and while I was turning my head and saw what he was pointing at, said, “That’s what an Open-Casket is like.” And I was looking at my first dead body. It was from a distance, but I could still see it was an elderly gentleman (and I recall he had a big nose). I quickly turned away, because I was still not ready for it… nor had I been ready for the all-too-sudden fashion my dad thrust upon me without warning. (He has a habit of that.)

I remember when the mother of one of my Aunts passed away. I had met her when I was really young… meaning, I don’t remember. But here, I was in High School, and we went to the Wake one evening. I spent the entire time just thinking… I felt like I should say something to my Aunt, but I didn’t know what that would be, because I didn’t remember her mother… and I didn’t want to lie and say “oh yeah, I remember her.” (If you knew my childhood, you’d probably wonder where I got this idea of “honesty” from… sometimes, I don’t even know.) When my parents told us to gather up our things to go, we all went up to her one last time to pay respects and say goodbye. When I got to my Aunt, I said, “I don’t remember her… but if she’s important to you, she’s important to me.” Then I hugged her, and we left.

My mom told me the next day, after my parents came back from the funeral (They didn’t want to take my brothers and I out of school for it), that my Aunt really appreciated what I said to her, and it made her feel better. (I guess I did something right.)

In High School, when I was a Senior, I was at the after-hours rehearsal for the school play (on a break) when I looked over down the hall and saw a few people gathered around standing still and listening to this one woman who was crying. My concern and curiosity got the better of me, and I walked over to see what was going on. When the woman finished (of which I didn’t know the context of what she was saying), and the group started to break up a little, I asked one of my other cast members what happened… and he told me that a kid in his class (the one just behind mine) had just killed himself.

It was not a guy I knew… but his sister was in my class (she apparently found him), and I would come to learn that he and I apparently knew a LOT of the same people. For awhile, I was wondering how it was I *didn’t* know him. But it seemed that just about everyone else in the school seemed to. (Though, he was part of the “jock” crowd, if I recall, so maybe that at least gave him some notice or popularity) Seeing the fallout the next morning was pretty surreal.

My first class was Physics, and our teacher was reading a prepared statement from the Principal’s Office… and everyone else was just quiet. Except for our Class President, Joe… who was balling his eyes out. Apparently, he was really good friends with the kid. When the teacher was about halfway through the statement, Joe got up and ran out suddenly. The teacher didn’t look up, just paused for a second, and then continued. Once he finished… there was complete silence… broken by me. Because I had gotten up and quickly headed for the door. I said to the teacher, “I’m going to check on Joe” and kept going. As I was going through the door, he said, “Thank you”… and I was off down the hall.

The first place I checked was the bathroom. I had the worst thoughts running through my mind, that *he* was going to try and kill himself too, or something. I dropped down to look under all the stalls at once, saw nothing, and checked the next closest one. I did see someone else in the hall, and asked if they had seen Joe, and they told me he went to the Guidance Counselor’s office. So that’s where I went. Joe was in with our Guidance Counselor (who was actually pretty useless in all of my interactions with him over the years… though he did try, I admit), and I just went in and sat down in another seat. I didn’t think I should say anything, I just felt that maybe having someone else there for him would be worth something.

For the next few hours, I pretty much stuck by Joe. Maybe it was part of my inner Super-Hero complex coming out, but I just felt like I had to stick by him and look after him. Logically, maybe I shouldn’t have done that… because I wasn’t even good friends with Joe, but I was going on gut feeling and instinct (despite my gut having steered me wrong in the past). I even escorted him to the local church, where an impromptu sermon was being given… that almost everyone in the school showed up to. I stuck by Joe, sitting next to him. I stuck by him until the sermon was over… I think he and a lot of other kids ended up going home by mid-day… I went back to the school to the scheduled classes, even though no one actually did anything in any of them. Each class ended up being an extra-quiet study hall.

I did go to the funeral services… mainly to “pay my respects”. Again, maybe logically, I shouldn’t have. But he was a kid from my school… we knew a lot of the same people (though for me they were acquaintances, and for him they were actual friends)… and his sister was in my class (again, despite not knowing her very well). That made me think I should be there for some reason or other. But I left after the church services… I didn’t follow the casket to the graveyard across the street. I just walked home.

In 1995, when I was in Undergrad, my Nana (Mom’s Mom) passed away. It was near the beginning of the Spring semester, and it was still a lot of snow on the ground. A few days before I had headed back there, I went with my Mom to the Nursing Home where Nana was living, bed-ridden. She recently had one of her legs amputated due to gangrene… and she didn’t seem to remember it. She also didn’t seem to remember my name. She looked at me with a big smile, then turned to my Mom and mumbled, “Which one is this?” Her tongue was majorly swollen and couldn’t drink normally. She had to have her mouth re-hydrated with a cotton swab that was dunked in a glass of water. It was… a bit painful to see her like that. There was also this awful stench that I had never experienced before. Later, when I asked my Mom about it, she told me that was the “rotting flesh from her bedsores”.

My Grandmother was rotting alive, and there was nothing I could do about that. That really hurt to think about.

Out of myself and my brothers, I think I was the last one to see her alive.

So, about a week later, I got the call at my dorm room from my Mom. I still wasn’t prepared for it, even though I knew it was inevitable. After I got the news, I put on my Coat and winter stuff… and just went walking. I think I circled the campus twice, when I finally ran into a friend of mine (the one whom I considered my long-lost twin, actually)… who could see that something was wrong. I managed to get it out, but was crying pretty much throughout while actually saying it aloud. (Prior to that, it was just silent, stoic contemplation) She then stuck with me to keep me company for the next few hours… which I’ve always been grateful for.

(At one point, she did say, “Um, listen… I have to say that if you’re thinking of trying to kiss me… please don’t.” To which, I turned and looked at her like she had 4 heads, with two of them singing Lithuanian Opera, and the other two licking their own eyeballs. I’d say that Sex was the *last* thing I was thinking about… except that to be honest, it wasn’t anywhere even on the list. So yeah, there’s no danger of that from me. And the thought that some guys *would* try to take advantage of that situation… dude, there’s a reason I hate my own gender.)

By the time I had gotten home for the Wake, I had pretty much cried myself out. I remember telling another one of my Aunts about my reactions, and she was surprised that I did so much crying… she had thought I was “taking it quite well.”

Still wasn’t sure what that meant.

In my next-to-last semester there, I was heading into a Tech rehearsal for the current show one Saturday morning. I ran into one of the other cast members, and I noticed he looked a bit down. So I asked him what happened, and he said how a girl in his dorm died in a car accident the night before. I said, “Oh God, I’m so sorry… may I ask who it was?” Then he told me… it was Carol Soucie.

Yes, I know this breaks the anonymity rule I have by naming her… but she deserves to be known and remembered. Carol was one of the absolute sweetest girls there was… and yes, I knew her.

When my friend told me it was her, my jaw dropped, and I was in shock.

Carol had been a neighbor of mine in our dorm the previous year, and I got to know her a decent bit from that. She also came to a lot of the department shows, and at one point I was told that “she was a fan of mine”. (No idea how true that was, but it made me smile… she had that effect on you, regardless.) This was the epitome of the unfair death. She was on her way home for the weekend and got hit by a milk truck (the driver of whom I believe I heard was drunk.)

A group of us carpooled up to Maine so we could go to the funeral. While it was a nice roadtrip… I wish we didn’t have to lose such a jewel of a young lady to do it. (Yet, she was worth driving 20 times the distance) It’s hard to say goodbye when, cosmically, you’re just saying hello. I think everyone felt cheated to not have had more time with her… because the little that we did was so good.

When I moved to California for Grad School, I was getting ready to fly back east to see one of my best friends get married. It was about a week and a half off, when one afternoon, at about 3:30 or so… I had this sudden flash in my head. A passing thought, a question, really… “What if Dzia-Dzia passed away?” (That’s my Grandfather on my Dad’s side. It’s a Polish thing.) I don’t know why… but I quickly and purposefully pushed it out of my head. It was a depressing thought, and there was no reason to have it.

When I got back to my apartment later that evening, I had a message on my answering machine. It was my Mom, asking me to call her “no matter the time”. As it was about 10pm when I got this, it was 1am where she was… so if I had to call, no matter the time… it can’t be good. I called her instantly… and she told me that Dzia-Dzia passed away suddenly that day. Recalling my earlier thought… I nervously asked her what time it happened. She said about 6:30pm… which would be 3:30 in the afternoon, my time. (I don’t really believe in psychic stuff… but that really disturbed me.) It was very sudden. He just fell over… no pain or anything. But completely unexpected.

Like when I heard about my Nana… I went walking. Trying to process it.

My parents had said to “not bother” flying back early for the funeral… it wasn’t worth it. (So nice of them to make that decision for me, wasn’t it?) As I believe I was the only one out of state at the time… I think I was the only one that missed the funeral. And it kinda pissed me off… I didn’t get to say my Goodbyes. I didn’t get the hugs I wanted or needed from my family WHEN they were wanted and needed! And timewise, I missed this all… by one week. I felt so incredibly cheated.

And it wasn’t the last time. A couple years later, just a few weeks before Christmas, the mother of another one of my Aunts passed away. This one was almost always at our family gatherings… we knew her and remembered her very well. She had gone into the hospital, and word hadn’t been good. Being the one so far away, and in another time zone, I had to rely on my cell phone for all information and staying in the loop. (Made more difficult by the fact that where I was staying, didn’t have any reception… I had to drive 8 miles into town to get my messages or make a call.) So, once I got into range of a tower, I called my parents… and my Dad answered. I asked what the news was… he said, “What?” I said, “Is there any change in her condition?”

And my Dad, in his infinite sensitivity… said, “No there’s no change. She’s dead.”

And he even said it with the tone of voice that just says, “What are you, a complete moron?”

I was shocked… not only at the news, but the complete assholishness of my own father at that moment. “Okay… when was someone going to tell ME???”

Then he goes on the offensive and starts getting mad about how my oldest brother was supposed to have told me, blah blah blah… Okay, if you want to throw blame at someone, fine… but how the hell can you hear those words from me: “Is there any change in her condition?” and actually believe that I had that information? How can you NOT say, “Oh… he doesn’t know.”?

But once again… they said not to fly back early. “It wasn’t worth it.” So, just being a few weeks away from flying back for Christmas… I had to miss another family funeral. And not say my goodbyes. Once again, feeling cheated.

And now my friend.

Now, I was living on the East Coast, and the funeral was on the West. Well, I wasn’t going to miss this one. His partner, one of my best friends, needed me… and if there was any way I could make it… I was going to be there. I lucked out, and got a decent last-minute flight into San Francisco, where I rented a car and drove the 5 hours north (the services were back in the area I went to Grad School, where we all met him)… and I was in town less then 24 hours, before I had to drive back down to San Fran to get my flight back. Travel-wise, it was a hellish weekend. But I’ll do it for my friends. Every time.

The funeral… felt a little off to me. Really for one reason. You see, I knew that he was going to be cremated… but what I didn’t know was that he had ALREADY been cremated. So, it was just a little urn there, no casket, no body.

That seems odd to me. I always saw cremation as simply the “alternative” to burying. They’re both just ways to dispose of a body, in the end. And the funeral and wake… are all supposed to be BEFORE the actual disposal. So people can say the goodbyes, look at the person one last time, remark how they look “so peaceful”… etc. But having the cremation BEFORE the funeral… is like having the wake over an already-buried grave. Makes no sense.

Once again… I felt cheated.

Funerals are for the living… this is about closure. Personally, I thought it was a bit selfish of his family to deny other people that opportunity for closure. Sure, there are different views on it, and they don’t look at it like that… but I do. And I think it’s cheating.

Sure, you can say, “But he’s still right there. That’s the ashes… that’s him. Right there! Literally!” And you’d be right, technically... he's just been converted to carbonized form. But you can’t look at the eyes of a pile of ashes. You can’t comfort yourself and say that they look so peaceful and happy lying there. Ashes don’t look happy. Or sad. They don’t look anything. It’s really hard to say goodbye to a pile of ashes, because you want to say it to a face, even if it’s not moving. And trying to say that to a picture is even harder… because that’s how they were THEN… at a frozen moment in time, when they were a different individual then. You want to say it to them as they are NOW. And now, if they’ve been converted to an unrecognizable form… and just as your brain could feel “they look so happy”, when the body is there… it is also easy to feel, “this really didn’t happen”, because it’s NOT there.

When I caught up with my friend (the partner) I asked him, “Is this a funeral or a *memorial service*?” He said, “It’s sort of both.”

It wasn’t fair. Not just losing him… but losing the chance to say goodbye.

So is that a good way to deal with it? Feeling like you’ve been able to say goodbye? Or does it come back down to the whole “crying/not-crying debate”?

Either way, the only answer or epiphany I can come up with is this:

I don’t think you can actually cheat Death… because Death doesn’t exactly play fair, either.

“to dwell on” – Transitive Verb

I feel like I’m dwelling. And I hate it. I don’t want to do it… and I try not to… but lately, it keeps popping into my head, and it’s really getting to me.

Now I know I haven’t had that many posts on here (this is the 4th), but right now… HALF of what is here connects back to that certain someone and the “Great Hurt of Something Awful” from a freaking year and a half ago. (and another makes a reference) And with the “Closure” post, I thought that might be that. And even in the last one, I mention how “I’m over it, I’m healed.” Maybe not. Wow, that’s frustrating.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that Spring is now in full bloom (“when a young man’s fancy turns to love”)… but “she” keeps popping into my head, and I absolutely hate it.

Now, it’s not because I still have “feelings” for her… (unless you count “contempt”). When I was doing therapy, I was asked if I had the opportunity would I get back together with her. I took a bit to think about it (rushing an answer usually gets an unintentional lie/denial), and ultimately said No. There’s no way I could take her back… not even as a Friend, as there is just no way I could trust her again, or give her any opportunity to hurt me. (Besides, any apology on her part now would be “Way-too-little-Waaaaay-Too-Fuckin-Late) Plus, I am really not into the whole “break-up-get-back-together” thing. I never have. If you break up, you break up for a reason. Yet, she’s even the 1 person that I made the exception for… she broke up with me, 15 hours later came back crying and apologizing, and I let her… and that’s when things REALLY went downhill with a vengeance.

I’m still upset over the lies, the betrayal…everything. It’s still at the point that I can’t even go look at some of the profile pages of some friends on Myspace… cause she’s there in their “top friends”, and it honestly hurts to look at her picture, or even see her name. I’m still trying to consciously force myself to write and say her actual name (rather than my *ahem* “colorful” terms that I’ve used)… whether its to actually be more comfortable with it… or just *look* like I’m more comfortable with it, I don’t know. (I won’t write it on here, as this is done as an “anonymous” forum… and MY real name isn’t even on here. The alias “Victor Riley” is another story for another time.)

But yet… I *WAS* doing really well for a long time… and I *was* getting more comfortable with it. I’ve been occasionally dating and been earnestly keeping an eye out, wanting to open myself up to someone new. Why I’m reverting back to the pain of this whole thing, I have no clue. Is it Spring in the air? Is it my relatives constantly asking, “So, are you seeing anyone?” Is it just that I don’t have a current “crush”? Is it something else entirely?

I try to consider that at least one possible Good Thing that came out of it… I made a list, a very specific one, of exactly what I want in a partner/lover. I didn’t want to just say, “Oh, you know… someone “nice”, “kind”, and that loves me… blah blah”. No, that crap wasn’t cutting it anymore. I got freaking DETAILED on this. A pretty long list, actually… broken up into 4 categories: Personality, Dating/Courting Practices, Future Plans, and Sex. (Most people want to hear about the Sex one… I wonder why?) Listing it out like this did give me a more specific idea of what I will and will NOT put up with anymore… as well as realizing potential “dealbreakers” that I never realized I had before.

I will not deny that some things on the list are just a direct rebellion against my experiences with “her”… Though I should point out… that the majority of our relationship was great (at least *I* thought so… I never heard otherwise from her)… and it was only in the last month that this all turned around (when someone *new* started to give her attention. There wasn’t anything wrong with My attention… it just wasn’t *new*). But she was a great girlfriend, I was in love (the only one I ever declared it to)… and physically she’s still someone I would consider Beautiful. (Too bad I can’t stand to look at her.) Just circumstances and decisions made in that short time… were just the wrong ones. Hooo boy, were they the wrong ones.

And getting back to the list… it may be TOO specific. I may seem too picky with it. Although, as a counter-argument to that… I’ve tried my whole life to be a damn good person… the “nice guy” that knowingly always finishes last, yet still tries to be nice… so I think that maybe I have the right to be picky… and I actually deserve someone that deserves me. So nyah. *ppbbbtthhhhllllttt*

But for instance… I never used to care about religious beliefs. I myself am Agnostic/Atheist, but always supported and encouraged the different beliefs in my partners. And “she” is very Catholic… goes to church every week. And I encouraged her to go… even reminded her, but never went myself (save for one uncomfortable evening). Well… then she broke up with me for the “religious reasons” (which came out of left field for me)… but then came back, saying it really wasn’t a big deal, it was a bad reason, we can work through it etc. Then after the final breakup… a few months after it, actually… it got back to me via the grapevine that she was telling some people that the reason we broke up was because *I* “didn’t respect her religion”. Now… personally I found that to be very insulting. “Respect” doesn’t mean “Agree”… and think I was VERY respectful to her religion. I never talked down about it, I never insulted it. But that’s apparently what she was saying. Sure, maybe she was just looking for a quick easy answer to tell people when she didn’t want to talk about it… I can understand that. One could say, “We weren’t the same religion, and that’s important to me.”… which is completely true… COMPLETELY understandable, and I couldn’t fault her or anyone for that. But saying I was disrespectful of her religion… is pinning it all on me… and is frankly, a flat-out lie. And hearing of that… only solidified my personal position AGAINST religion… and it is now a conscious turn-off when I hear that someone IS religious in their life. Even though I know not everyone is like that. The fact that I’m now turned against it… instead of accepting of it… kinda bugs me.

And come to think of it… another thing I’ve been afraid of… is this whole thing not making me a “nice guy” anymore. You know… with the James Bond movies… as much as I love to watch them, I never got the whole “misogynist womanizing” part of him. Never understood it… then I went through all of this… and read “Casino Royale” (and saw the movie)… and I think I do. Bond fell in love…deeply cared for Vesper Lynd… and she betrayed him, henceforth… misogynistic womanizer, using women just for sex, etc. Maybe its hard to put into words, but that anger you get from what you feel to be a huge betrayal, makes you want to lash out and just “use” others, maybe as a form of revenge that will never be satiated. I now notice that I’m keeping myself in check a bit, as I’ve had the urges to do just that every now and then (but stopping before I act on them).

Guess I’ve had “my Vesper”… I just hope when I get my “Tracy” some bald guy in a neck-brace doesn’t shoot her in the head on our honeymoon… (though I think that’s deviating from the metaphor…)

I tell ya… if I could find affordable therapy around here, I’d still be doing it. One of my big reasons for starting the therapy in the first place (in Los Angeles) was because I didn’t want to carry any mistrust or anger that I have from this failed relationship… into my next one (whenever it may be). Yet, I’m being so cautious and mistrusting now… sometimes I’m not so sure I won’t do that. Yeah, it’s a great saying, “Love like you’ve never been hurt”… sounds great on a t-shirt or bumper sticker… but in reality… it is probably one of the HARDEST things imaginable, and not so simple.

Sometimes its hard to talk to friends about this… as when you hear about someone’s problems and experiences, you often want to inject your own thoughts/experiences/etc, maybe to “connect” with the person… or whatnot. And if I tried to talk to my brothers, I’d probably just get a ‘Damn it, get over it!” and that would be that.

Gee, thanks Dr. Phil. Too bad it doesn’t actually work like that. Do me a favor, reader… try to avoid saying, “Just get over it”… cause it’s never that simple. It never actually gets to the root of *why* the person isn’t “over it”. Granted, 1% of the time it is something that needs to be heard (it’s happened to me)… but generally speaking: Doesn’t work.

But Therapy was nice because you have someone who’s just listening, only. Not interjecting… just letting you talk and trying to understand. (Likewise, it taught me how to be a better listener. There’s at least one more good thing!) So, in lieu of therapy… I blog.

I wonder if this is something I’m always going to carry around in a part of me... it’s been so long even now, but still hurts. And the hardest day I went through last year was the one time I ran into her at a mutual friend’s wedding. I knew it was going to happen, and tried to prepare myself… but felt a number of times like I “wasn’t going to make it”… whether that means breaking down and crying, exploding in a succession of curses, or covering myself in the wedding cake frosting and skipping around the reception yelling, “I’m a choo-choo train!”… I’m not really sure. (My luck, it’s probably closer to the choo-choo train scenario…) Even though all we did was exchange a “Hello” (and I ended up sitting directly behind her during the ceremony)… I felt so uncomfortable the entire day and evening… only going through it because I didn’t want to miss my friend get married. I just did everything I could to occupy myself, yet it seemed like every time I turned around, she was nearby.

Reminds me of an episode of “Sex & The City”… the main character was obsessing/lamenting over a breakup, and the Redhead (Miranda) gets fed up, yells “Get over it!” and storms off. Later, Miranda sees an old Ex…one that cheated on her, and is STILL with the woman he cheated on her with. She quickly bolts and hides, can’t bring herself to see or be seen by them. She shows up later saying, “I was wrong. Take all the time you need.”

I kind of identify with that.

[Yeah, I did it… I made references to James Bond AND Sex & the City in the same blog post. Boo ya.]

Yeah, sometimes I still wonder if I’ll ever hear from her again… try to “make peace” or apologize or whatever. Hell, sometimes I wonder if she ever heard of or hears of this and reads it. Has it given a new perspective of how I felt or feel? Whatever, I don’t know. Maybe subconsciously I do want it… but like I said… it’d still be too little, too late.

(Though, if Scumsucker ever tries to contact me… I *will* circumvent his throat twice with a razor, bisect him from the crotch to the chest, flay his skin open, pull out his internal organs and place them over his left shoulder. I’m just saying… *ten points if you can guess the reference!*)

I’m thinking this will pass when I find someone worthy of being my Crush. Maybe I should just focus more on my Hollywood Dream Girl and stick in the realm of fantasy more often to help. Who knows? Right now, I’m just trying to force myself to think of other things… focus on advancing the dreams and plans… hoping it hurts less and less each day.

Thanks for reading.

Closure...

I've been reflecting recently on what exactly entails "closure". Always seemed like a simple concept. Sort of an idea of finality and peace about something... a sensible ending. Like having "all questions answered" kind of a thing.

Without looking in a dictionary (and doing so would eliminate the philisophical opportunities of this), I always figured this would be a decent explanation... though I'm not sure who else would agree. I use my past experience as sort of the barometer for that. Many times I would have questions about something... an event or relationship (okay mostly relationships... that's what I'm really getting to), and always have questions... What exactly happened that I didn't see? What am I not being told? Stuff like that. The answers to these and other questions was always supposed to be the "closure". Sure, things didn't work out for whatever reason... but the closure would at least explain WHY... and hence I could learn from it, and make whatever future relationship benefit from that knowledge.

Not to say I always got "closure"...hell, I got it very rarely. Some of the times where I did get it... was LONG after the fact... such as a "yeah, I was stupid... sorry for what I did." So the closest thing I ever got to "closure" (at the times it was needed)... was when I had to make it myself. Usually by soul-searching... asking myself questions, and trying to find the most constructive, understanding answers that I could. While it never answered questions about the other person... it did answer them for me, and about who I am.

But lately... I've been wondering if I need to re-define the idea of "closure"...

I shall elaborate slightly.

About a year ago... I went through the worst breakup I ever had. By far. I'm not going to bother details (because that would be 20 pages... and just about everyone that knows me (who will probably be the ones reading this) know the details anyway (from my point of view). And those that don't... it literally is 20 pages long (and the story of the story is a story unto itself), so you probably don't want to know...

But the long and the short of it is... I got screwed over. Big time. Whether that was intended by the involved parties or not is neither here nor there. But throughout the events... the final product was Me Screwed Over. The stress of it got so bad, I started having stomach pains (at least I now know where I keep my stress...) that doubled me over for a good few months. Yak yak yak camel yak...

But for the idea of closure... well, I know it was something I desperately wanted for a long time and wasn't getting. I had so many questions about what happened... why... what was the thought process... why did it happen like that... why couldn't it have been a nice clean break (which it could have)... why the lies, the betrayal, etc... Most of the questions don't even have an intelligibe answer. Just a "that's the way it is" or "it's happened before"... or things like that. They never actually answered the question to my satisfaction... but I wonder if any answer *would* be satisfying.

Working things out over the past year... I enlisted a LOT of help... cause for the first time in my life, I sure needed it. Have done a lot of talking... lot of writing... even found that I could draw (which is a positive thing... though to be honest... if that's how I needed to find out, I would have preferred to never know).

And I've come a long way... for one... it's not very often that I feel the need to talk about the details. When I do, I've been told that I sound "not so bitter"... and overall to seem to be doing (and feeling) pretty well.

I should say... it being almost a year now... is not much of a surprise for me to take this long. I *always* take a long time between relationships... granted I didn't think it would be THIS long... it's been almost as long as the time we actually dated, but everyone is different... and I know people still hurting from briefer relationships that took place years ago. And it's still really just applying to the issue of closure.

I have dated... and had a very nice time with some really cool people. And I'm glad that relationship is over... and I feel fairly confident that I'm ready to move on to the next opportunity whenever it presents itself. So, don't worry... I'm not obsessing.

But like I said... I considered redefining "closure". Because for myself... I think I've come up with the answers I'm going to... and the rare times I do think about it... it doesn't seem like enough.

I started wondering if closure is more than just ME understanding things... but would it feel better for HER to see my point of view? And not just know my point of view... but actually UNDERSTAND it? And realize why I felt wronged to such an extent? Maybe even elicit a sincere apology?

Do I need to bluntly and cruelly say all the things I felt and opinions I had? If for nothing more than to get it out? Of which... I have said. I've chatted with friends, therapists, written about it... but I always felt that telling "others" never did much good... when the person that I "wanted" to hear it was someone I never wanted to see or talk to again. I thought that she was the audience I needed... but would never get. I wonder if that's just the closure I needed.

Yet, while speculating it... I can guess that it would *feel* good to do that... but thanks to Murphy's Law, we know it probably wouldn't work out that way. Maybe her reaction would be so cold that it only incensed me more... or maybe she'd break down crying, apologizing up and down saying that she's a horrible person. *shrug* Who knows. But I don't think either of those is something I want or need.

I know I can create the opportunity for that... I can get in contact with her, face her down and tell her all on my mind. (But that's a lot of work to just be consciously cruel, no matter how much it's deserved) But I did mean it when I said I didn't want her in my life. Yet, in a way... we ARE in each other's life. Because we have mutual friends. (The really ironic part is that I became friends with those people AFTER said breakup... again, long story.) Though I can avoid her in every way possible... eventually, we WILL run into each other.

And we did... at a wedding. (Definitely a place where I would never start drama) There was a polite smile and hello. And that's what it was kept to. And I was even uncomfortable with that, quite frankly. And I'm told that even though she still wants to be friends with me, she will never make the approach to me... because she figures that since "I was the one who was wronged, she'll wait until I approach her."

I can understand that logic. But there's the counter-argument: If I was the one who was wronged... why the hell do *I* have to be the one to make the uncomfortable approach???? That's the one I subscribe to, and hence I do not intend to (of which I can be very stubborn when I want).

Yet, I did hear (from third-party) that she did walk by me several times on purpose... to give me the opportunity to stop and talk to her. Of which I never did. Don't know if I was just told that for my benefit or whatever... (can't think of how it would)... but it was grapevine.

Why mention this all now?

Well... I realized earlier today... that the one-year anniversary of the breakup is just a few short days away. And just prior to that realization... my stomach started acting up. The sure sign of my stress from this whole last year... pain that I haven't felt in several months.

Now whether my body's internal clock went off because of the time of year... or if I got the mild pains BECAUSE I was thinking about it...or if I just ate my Salmon a little too fast... don't know. Or even if it's just for general stress issue... not related to her... because this has been a year of change... and with change comes stress. And I've made a decision to change something very significant... my location.

And I don't mean just get a new apartment...I'm talking a full-on Latitude Adjustment. It's something I thought about heavily... and made the decision because I feel it's right for ME! (And I'm making it a point to do more things for Me.) So while I feel good about it... the logistics of that can always be stressful.

So maybe it's something... maybe it's nothing. Maybe I'm at the end of that saga... maybe there's more to come. Maybe "she" will hear about this and read it. (Not sure how she would, though) Maybe she doesn't give a flying leap. I don't know. But I think Closure is starting to seem like an intangible idea... something we tell ourselves to try to move on. Not something you can put your finger on... but that we need all the same... and hence near impossible to find.

Providing that I'm making any sense... what do you think?

And a shout out to the GG blog... they seem to like me there. :)