Had she been alone in those final moments?
It may have been a year or two after our brief relationship ended that I happened to pick up a copy of our local paper. I would do this from time to time just to catch up on the big news that was happening in our city. Often one could keep up through word of mouth, but I always felt an obligation to be a bit more diligent…….a sense of civic duty perhaps. And besides, it was a small paper and could be read in a very short period of time. So the headlines, of course the sports, long term forecast, weather in the cities around the world that I had been to and loved, and the obits. This was a small town that I had lived in most of my life. You know people, have old friends and acquaintances. In a macabre way it is nice to know from a distance, who is still around and who has not made the latest head count. These people occupied a space in my life. Even if it was not recent, it was still important. They were important. Memories and experiences that could be attached to most if not all of them. Somehow it was important to know when that space would not be physically revisited again. Not that it would be sealed off, just updated and better defined.
In the brief time that I had known her, she dreaded those visits to the dermatologist. In that interlude there had been two, each one approached with great trepidation. I had not been around long enough to know the history of all this. It was not something that she often spoke of. But there was that crater size indentation in her back which told most of the story. It was unavoidable in our physical contact. I can’t say that I ever saw it in the light, but it’s appearance would have made no difference. It was something about her that I fully accepted and in a bizarre way, cherished. The aftermath of each of those visits was met with great relief. A very big smile and the look of dodging a bullet was the usual reaction. I was lost in her and did not fully appreciate what this was all about. She was just there, and thats all that mattered to me. The thought of her not being there never entered my mind; there was too much at stake and I was in very deep. An impenetrable defensive shield existed that prevented a dark reality that was apart of her life from invading mine. She fully understood the potential of this reality, I did not. It haunted her. It bounced off my defenses and never occupied a second thought.
At the top of the obits was her name, or the name she went by. Stunned, silent, in disbelief, I stared to be sure what I was seeing was really there. It was. I read on. The announcement, reference to a long illness, who she was survived by, where services would be held, and burial arrangements. There was another person in the room with me as I tried to take this in. I remember just quietly putting the paper aside and announcing that I had to take my leave. Not that I had any place to go. I just knew that I could no longer stay there. Somehow, some place, I had to fully get my head around this. I knew at the time that this would not be easy or quick to happen. And it was not.
I imagined what had happened. There had been a nightmarish visit to the dermatologist. That time there was no good news. The aftermath was not a big smile and sense of relief. The bullet had not been dodged. There were many tears, I am sure. A sense of panic and great fear. It would have threatened to devour her. She would have taken long drives and walks to figure out what the hell to do. She would have at last turned to someone for help and comfort as she had not done before. There had been that phone call that I never returned. I thought of her terror and isolation and what she must have gone through. And I regretted not having been part of her life as this was unfolding, while at the same time honestly experiencing relief that she had made sure that I would not be in the picture, for better or worse. There may have been more than one person devoured by this nightmare. I understood quite well her vulnerability and fragility, as well as mine.
So who was there as the darkness set in? Whose arms were wrapped around her? Whose tears drenched her as she lay in those arms. Who was it that was torn away when the end had come? Who stumbled from her bedside, inconsolable, and despondent? Who would have questioned gods decision and wisdom at that moment. And who wondered how any light could ever again penetrate this darkness. It should have been me. I wanted it to be me, but it was not. In looking back, that had been her decision and mine. Just why she ended our relationship, I will never know. Perhaps she had known the prognosis and wanted no one to join this journey into darkness. In fact she may have correctly gauged how it would have impacted me……the devastation, desperate sense of loss. Maybe, what at the time seemed so inexplicable and hurtful was in fact a get out of jail free card………a chance to live my life without experiencing this trauma. Why she chose to call months later is also a mystery. Perhaps second thoughts? Maybe a reconsideration of facing that darkness alone. Probably, just a simple hello and goodbye.
I will never know the answer to this or to the larger question of who, if anyone, was there in that fading light. There would have been someone in that room who entered whole but left having lost part of themselves. No I was not there, but the brightness of my internal light has dimmed some since that moment in my father’s living room, picking up a week old copy of our local paper.
I sometimes treat myself to the wondrous memories of our brief time together. And I sometimes regret not having been there for the good and the horrific…….basking in that sunshine while it was there and fighting through the darkness as it threatened to consume me. But life is what it always is, there is no changing that. Some moments and experiences are meant to be ours……..others are not. We are much better off living in acceptance of that reality