I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Sunday, June 20, 2010

The Last Time He Saw Me Cry

Some of the details are clear in my mind as if happened yesterday. Others were blurry even as they were taking place.

I had, once again, managed to justify getting together one more time. Our relationship had deteriorated long before, but I still held hope that after so much we had shared we would salvage at least some contact.

That evening, I showed up promptly to help with the tree decorations as I had every year since we met.

I tried, maybe too hard, to be pleasant, a good conversationalist, likeable.

The hours went by. As always happened when we were together something was said that went wrong and the arguing started.

I argued back, I defended, I pleaded for us to turn around. I cried.

But my words and plead bounced against a wall of anger. Hurtful words that itemized all my wrongs, present and past, all my bad, were coming at me faster than I could process. Suddenly, my mind stopped registering. I drowsed in a fog, but I could still see the angry eyes, the same eyes that at one time looked at me with so much love, and the lips that many times had said soothing words were uttering hurtful words.

Then it stopped.

We sat down quietly and continued choosing ornaments. I wiped my tears with the palm of my hand. I don’t know how long it was, 5 minutes or an hour, time ceased to matter. I grabbed my keys, said a few uneventful words and left.

The door closed behind me and with it one important relationship of my life.

I still waited a day or two for an apology. An apology not for the words of hatred because I knew those could be said in a moment of extreme anger, but for the mocking of my efforts. For the hurt of that night. For the many times I showed up and was ignored. But it never came. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered, maybe we knew we were done, maybe he knew before I did that we were never good together as he yelled that night. But maybe it would have.

There were other tears after that night, but those were tears of desillusion for the time I wasted trying to rescue a relationship that should have never been from the very beginning.

That night, more than the words, the eyes ended me, ended my hope. It ended my being consumed with a love for someone who never respected nor appreciated it. My feelings didn’t end that night, but my faith in him did.

I left with one thing echoing in my head, one of the things he yelled with a mocking smile “life is good without you”. And for the great love I felt for him, I hope that it is.