Mourning again

May 15, 2007

I've had my share of downs over the last year.

Something pretty terrific happened to me the other day. I reunited with the boy I wanted in High School. We had lunch. We talked about his hopes, his kids, my kids, our individual histories. It was amazing. If felt so good to be with someone I had known for years. I felt so completely safe and seen.


We had several moments of quiet throughout our lunch. He was the first person I learned to be quiet with. I felt nostalgia and peace.

When I went thru my divorce I vowed that he would be the next man I married. I knew that I loved him in a way that went beyond possession but was made up of passion. I was young. I got back together with my baby's daddy. (I've always wanted to say that.) Then I saw him, Mr. Dream Guy again for the last time. I'd committed to the man that would cost me so much. So I let go of the fantasy of marrying the first and until recently, the best man I had met.

I had a baby. I heard through the grapevine that he had gotten a girl pregnant and they had married. He didn't talk much about her during our lunch. I imagine her to be beautiful and kind and harrassed and tired. I realized I imagine her to be like I think I would be, if I had married him.

They've been married 12 years now. I project so much still. I imagine him loving her, even if he doesn't talk about it. I imagine the building of a life together and raising 4 kids in difficult circumstances. I imagine her frustration at his inability or desire to communicate. I think she must have had some extremely lonely years. I think of how much they have to be proud of, how they've held together. I wish I had been her. Not really of course, but in a deep and private way I wish he had chosen me. I am also really glad he didn't.

I think its a very momentous thing to grow up, even just a little and just for a moment. I knew when I was having lunch with him that he was still the man that would kill anyone who hurt me. At least in his heart, if it wasn't practical in real life. I could see how time had made him into a better man than he was boy. I saw the sadness that said he lived an honest life. I saw the love for his children and the pride in his work, his hope for the future.

I liked that he is almost certainly the boy he was when we were 15 together. He still thinks for himself, he compromises when necessary. He has grown wiser and maybe more optimistic. He has an idea of what is important. I love that it mirrors mine. I love that after 15 years of not seeing each other, we still think along similar paths. They aren't the same paths that they were 15 years ago, but they have changed and grown as if we had stayed in touch and influenced each other. It seems like a miracle to find someone like that. Someone I understand that understands me without explanation.

I am convinced that it is useless to mourn what you can't have. I haven't been successful at suppressing it however. Finding an old friend, and I guess that is what we really are and always have been, has been a better experience than I thought possible. Its taught me that time and distance don't change the way you feel about people. It taught me that patience and a willingness to live an authentic life is more important than money in the bank. But I knew all that stuff already.