He was talking about Her, telling me about her how her OCD made them late for everything, because she couldn’t leave the house unless it was spotless. I never mind listening when he wants to talk about Her, but I never pry, either. So I have no idea why I asked the question, what I was trying to prove to him or to myself.
What did you love about Her?
As soon as he began to talk I wished I hadn’t said anything. I didn’t want to know any of this. He told me resourceful She was, how She could always come up with what a person desperately needed, often without them having to ask. He was smiling as he gave examples. I stared into his blue eyes, feeling dizzy with jealousy–for a dead girl!–staring because I knew if I looked away I would betray my feelings. He went on to tell me She was the funniest person he has ever known. No matter how bad things got, She was always able to find the humor in the situation. I wanted to run into the bathroom and lock the door and cry like a spoiled little girl.
I hate that I feel this way. He lost the love of his life, found Her dead in the bed they shared; I have no right to have feelings about that. But I do, and what upsets me most is that I can’t talk to my best friend about it. Not that he wouldn’t talk with me. He asked me what else I wanted to know. I thought, but didn’t say, that I didn’t even want to know what I had asked already, and I will never ask what I really want to know; I will never utter the selfish, insecure questions I had at the tip of my tongue.
He asked me if I would have gotten involved with him had I known how recently She had died. I told him no. The truth is, I still don’t know exactly how recent it was, and I haven’t asked. She died sometime after the beginning of the year, maybe three months before we met. Her family is furious with him that he can “move on” so quickly. Of course, he has not gone anywhere. He is raising Her child, and is still in close contact with Her mother.
He says I have helped him immeasurably through his grief, but I wonder if I only postpone it, distract him with my own plethora of tragedies. Maybe he, too, has something to prove. I know he feels he failed Her, that he wasn’t there for Her at that final moment when She needed him most. Maybe he wants to be here for me in order to prove that he can take care of someone. Not that I doubt his love for me. I know he loves me. Usually that is enough. It is certainly more, much more, than I have ever had before.
May 26, 2008 at 11:12 am |
Oh honey! By a shift of your lens you could instead see that you are blessed by this man’s opening up and sharing a part of himself that is not next to, but rather within, his heart and his very being. You are not competing with a memory but are fitting yourself next to it. You are creating new memories. Should you be honored that this man feels such wonderful things about someone that’s died? I think so. Maybe he sees some of the same qualities in you. You are not Her – but you are obviously someone special in his life. No one can postpone grief for someone else. He is dealing with it his way. He’ll have good days and bad days. That’s where you come in. Be there for him just as he has been there for you. Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal (from a headstone in Ireland).
“Even hundredfold grief is divisible by love.” ~Jareb Teague