With a "K"
When I mentioned shoveling all of the trash out of my heart, I was not actually anywhere near this one. But a couple of weeks ago, I was talking with someone who made a statement which (inadvertently) cut straight through to it. My, but that one was deep. So, nice day for it.
Sometimes I forget that she never met my mother. I know my mother would have liked her. Not that she had anything against my other girlfriends, but she didn’t particularly connect with them either. This one was different.
When I was visiting my parents for Christmas in Geneva, my mother told me that she would be coming to San Antonio for a conference in a few months. She said that she was going to invite ~ and me, until she realized that it was Easter weekend. Which to me implied that somehow because it was Easter, she wasn’t inviting us. (Those Christians do take their Easter seriously.) I mulled over that for a month or so before deciding that, formal invitation or no, I wanted to go. But I never passed along the pseudo-invitation. For one thing, I did not think that we were at the point in our relationship of taking trips together. In particular, my mother was making the lodging arrangements, and I rather suspected that she was not on the same page as to our situation, and that was certainly not a conversation that I wanted to have. A stupid thing really, for it needn’t have been a long conversation. Oh yeah, and it was Easter.
I did not know that it was to be the last chance. I never even asked. Even when it was all over, to this day I don’t think I ever even brought it up. How many unilateral decisions have I made, simply by never mentioning the option?
She never met my mother. But she knew me when I had a mother. And, perhaps more importantly, my mother knew of her. Which will never be true of anyone else I meet from that point forward. All I have now is a picture. It’s a nice picture. I… we went to every store, and looked at every single frame that was for sale in this town before I could finally choose one that was worthy. But ultimately, it’s just a picture of some stranger that my wife and kids (…your what?!“) will never know.
So it was that I got these two hopelessly intermixed in my head and in my heart. I needed the one just to keep the other alive. An important thing, surely, but it’s certainly no basis for a relationship. I also have a song I can no longer play, because it’s dedicated to both of them in different ways.
It’s hard to let go of so many dreams all at once.