I have found you. Or I would have found you, if you weren't already dead. Somehow I always knew, or thought I knew, or felt that I knew that this would be more dramatic than this. That there would be more than this. But this is the end and the end is all there is.
All my fervent wishing that you were or would be longing for me somewhere far or near with happiness or disappointment is over. I thought that the worst would be that you were busy loving someone else like I was sure I deserved to be loved. But that wasn't the case, and, as it turns out, that wasn't even the worst case.
You are gone, dead, and not just a fake dead where I am allowed to choose the terms. Not just a "You are dead to me, sir. I want you not." Dead as in never to breathe again. Dead as in never to see, never to hear, never to want, never to dream. Dead. Not even a cold, long, sad dead. Just a clean, ashen, gone dead.
And I am so disappointed.
I feel as though I have been cheated. You owed me so much and now your dead. You owed me so much and you didn't even have time to know what I deserved. The end of you was and is and always will be and I am still here and still have no way to say or see or know anything of you. And I am so disappointed. So cheated. So bereft. So angry.
I am a good kid. I always was a good kid. Sure, I throw temper tantrums. Sure, I had an awkward adolescence. Sure, I am flawed. But there is so much in me that warrants notice. There is so much in us all that you should have seen.
I know that you are not worth all of this. I know that you are just some illusion, some ethereal mist that I shouldn't concern myself with. But now I will never know. I will never get to make that decision myself. I will never get to look you in the eye and call you a cad- a coward- a cur. I will never get to cry to you, to plead with you, to hear your reasons and your pathetic excuse.
All I truly have now, at the end of this lifelong search for you- at the turning point when questions are answered and answers must be dealt with accordingly, and feelings must be cataloged and owned, and condolences allowed, and pride must surface to buoy the soul- all I have now is me. I get up and I look at my reflection, the reflection that seeing you was supposed to clear and restore in some way, and all I see is me.
A flawed, but completely whole, me.
And the only one to hear my complaints and deal with my tears and hold back my anger is me.
Young, disappointed, cheated me.
And what shall I allow myself? How shall I feel about you today, since you are not here to gauge my emotions, to approve or deny, to hide or to appear? Shall I remain forever hurt? Shall I remain forever tied to the idea that you could not love me, who in the world would?
No. I am not of you. I am just me. Whole, without you. Whole, even though I hurt. Whole, and sufficient.
I can be the best me, without you.
I am the best me, without you.
I am me, without you.
I am me; without you.
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Many years ago, I was a young, eighteen year old girl who got hooked up with a 31 year old man who had no roots. For years, I searched for him, with a motive of only being able to stay in enough contact that the door would be open for communication (because he had gotten me pregnant). I would stop searching, then try again. Then stop. Then try again. Even before the Internet, I tried. One day, I found out that he was dead. He had been dead for quite some time. I felt emptiness, profound sadness, and anger, and even hostility as his life story slowly unravelled before my eyes.
Even to this day, I am angry. I am angry for the children he never knew. I am even more angry for the child he did know, but neglected while that child was alive, and not even listed on his own child's obituary....the child who bore that man's name (first, last and middle) and also bore his birthday.
This year, I grieved for the daughter he never knew, for she is beautiful, bright, full of spirit and depth beyond her years. I grieved because she will never have the chance to either hug him or slap him, or both. I grieved because he would never know his grandchildren. I grieved because, while he kept himself free of responsibility, he also kept himself in a self imposed bondage, never living a life of meaning and joy. I grieved for the photo of him I was never able to obtain, the photo I would love to have given to her and to her brother. I grieved because she deserved so much more.
But I am still thankful. I am thankful for every person who has ever loved her, and thankful for every person who has loved her brother (JPD). I am thankful that she is the flower who finds itelf a way to find the sun, even through the narrow cracks in the sidewalk. I am thankful that she knows the Lord, and knows that God's acceptance of her far outweighs the rejection of any man.
I am thankful that I've come to know her, and I know that she will take this experience and somehow, someway, she'll use it to help someone (or many someones). She will have lived through profound disappointment, and she will know how to love someone else through their own disappointments.
I am thankful for those who know her value. I am thankful for those who see her as a gift from God. In an indirect way, that man brought us together. But it is God's love that will keep each other being friends for life. At least I plan on it.
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