You said this evening that you’d like to buy me something. To say sorry. For everything. What did I want? You didn’t know what I’d like…
I think that says it all about how far apart we are. Because actually I don’t want anything from you any more. Nothing money can buy. I don’t even want apologies. You think that’s negative, but actually I see it as being overwhelmingly positive. I’m moving on. I’ve (mostly) stopped being angry with you, because that anger was eating me up, killing me slowly.
Ten years ago, I wanted you to stay with me that night as I lost our baby. I still feel the pain of those final contractions in the middle of sleepless nights.
When I explained how much your abandonment hurt, you shrugged; you didn’t want to talk about it; it was over, done. And so it was, long gone by the time we had that conversation, but some acknowledgement might have eased the pain.
Again and again through the years, you did the same thing. When bad things happened, you ignored them, pretended they weren’t happening, turned your back and walked away.
When the world froze over last November, everything was bleak. I was reeling from the news of a friend’s illness. Another friend was dying, slowly, inexorably, timescale unknown. I couldn’t cope with that concurrence, couldn’t stop my mind from making connections that shouldn’t be made.
When I put the phone down after the call, finally, three days before Christmas, telling me she’d gone, you turned your back and walked away in the middle of my sentence. If I hadn’t been so utterly destroyed at that point, I’d have thrown something at your retreating head. I hated you at that moment. My children held me through that surreal week of festivities.
The final straw, the death knell for us, was after my dad hit me in April. I needed your support. So did your children. We didn’t get it. You were ‘staying out of it.’ That was when I stopped hoping for miracles (from my parents, from you), and decided to focus on the relationships in my life which made me happy. You know, I have some truly amazing friends. It’s a shame you’re jealous, they could have been your friends too.
Enough talk of misery, I also wanted you to share the highs. Once upon a time, I thought you were that person, the one who I could share the sunsets with, watch waves, sing to the seals and climb mountains. Someone to bounce creative ideas off, and rejoice in good news together. The sad thing is, I can’t remember whether you ever truly were that person, or if I just wished it were so.
If you need me to tell you what gift I’d cherish, there’s no point. It’s too late. I needed you to work it out for yourself, years ago. I’m sorted; I don’t want anything more from you.