I never wrote you a love poem
I dreamt last night that I was really trying to make ammends - trying so hard to make nice to his wife, so that we could talk openly again. When you suck the poison from the snakebite, all of the bloodvenom cocktail doesn't make it to the floor. Sometimes, whether you like it or not, a person becomes part of you so thoroughly that getting rid of them is amputation. Or more, like those people that when in utero, were twins, until one absorbed the other. Now they're having teeth removed from their shoulder. I wonder sometimes, who is the tooth.
He was always the strong one, or so I thought. It seems now, that I did an awful lot of listening. An awful lot of following as well. Perhaps I was more pliant than strong. Perhaps he saw that as a weakness.
Looking back, I remember trying to be so tough, so strong, so forgiving, so compliant. I think, over 5 years we said "I love you" about as many times. He just didn't say those things, so I didn't either. And whenever he left I never told him. I questioned, I listened, I rationalized, we talked and talked and talked -- but I never said that he should stay because I loved him. Perhaps he needed to hear it as much as he couldn't say it. Perhaps not. Perhaps I couldn't let it shatter my own guy's girl visage.
I may never know. Nor may he. But in being part of my brother's recovery, I'm reminded of him in some ways, when he was recovering (if you could call it that) from the drugs and the alcohol. I know now, what to look for - how it works, the nastiness that goes along with it, the regret that you haven't let yourself regret yet, the fucked up things you did to people you love. So fortunately, I now have a greater understanding of my brother's situation, and also some retrospective clarity.
I know that, had we stayed together we'd have both been miserable -- it took me a long time to accept that. It's hard to accept that I only speak to him every few months, while he's at work. I refuse to call him anymore. He won't call me but talked for ages when I did.
My mother said the hardest part of divorce and estragement was losing the witness to your life. Having been almost exclusively his (hermits that we were) sometimes, I miss having that witness. Having someone who really knew me then and can testify to how far I've come. I regret having not made him hear "I love you". I don't know his current situation -- but for some reason, my heart tells me, and my dreams tell me -- that even though I don't feel that way now, that he needs to hear it - needs to know how much he meant to me at that time. Or maybe I need him to know.
From what I can tell, he's become a much more decent person. Maybe having never said anyting but poured in all the good I good, and sucked out as much of the bad that I could made a difference. But maybe also it destroyed any chance of pursuing the friendship we had.
I think it narrows down to guilt. I know too much, I've seen too much, I've heard too much, and he know's he's hurt me too much in the past. I think that it's very hard to be who you are now when around the ones that saw you, and loved you, at your lowest.
Sometimes, though, I miss my friend.
He was always the strong one, or so I thought. It seems now, that I did an awful lot of listening. An awful lot of following as well. Perhaps I was more pliant than strong. Perhaps he saw that as a weakness.
Looking back, I remember trying to be so tough, so strong, so forgiving, so compliant. I think, over 5 years we said "I love you" about as many times. He just didn't say those things, so I didn't either. And whenever he left I never told him. I questioned, I listened, I rationalized, we talked and talked and talked -- but I never said that he should stay because I loved him. Perhaps he needed to hear it as much as he couldn't say it. Perhaps not. Perhaps I couldn't let it shatter my own guy's girl visage.
I may never know. Nor may he. But in being part of my brother's recovery, I'm reminded of him in some ways, when he was recovering (if you could call it that) from the drugs and the alcohol. I know now, what to look for - how it works, the nastiness that goes along with it, the regret that you haven't let yourself regret yet, the fucked up things you did to people you love. So fortunately, I now have a greater understanding of my brother's situation, and also some retrospective clarity.
I know that, had we stayed together we'd have both been miserable -- it took me a long time to accept that. It's hard to accept that I only speak to him every few months, while he's at work. I refuse to call him anymore. He won't call me but talked for ages when I did.
My mother said the hardest part of divorce and estragement was losing the witness to your life. Having been almost exclusively his (hermits that we were) sometimes, I miss having that witness. Having someone who really knew me then and can testify to how far I've come. I regret having not made him hear "I love you". I don't know his current situation -- but for some reason, my heart tells me, and my dreams tell me -- that even though I don't feel that way now, that he needs to hear it - needs to know how much he meant to me at that time. Or maybe I need him to know.
From what I can tell, he's become a much more decent person. Maybe having never said anyting but poured in all the good I good, and sucked out as much of the bad that I could made a difference. But maybe also it destroyed any chance of pursuing the friendship we had.
I think it narrows down to guilt. I know too much, I've seen too much, I've heard too much, and he know's he's hurt me too much in the past. I think that it's very hard to be who you are now when around the ones that saw you, and loved you, at your lowest.
Sometimes, though, I miss my friend.
posted by Laura | 10:10 PM
2 Comments:
I have nothing articulate to say at this hour, so I hope a pat on the shoulder and knowing nod will do.
It ~IS~ hard but it is a part of life. THis staying together through the good as well as the bad. TOday, we forget that. I rationalize too why my brother, stubborn cuss uses ~ALL~ his spare time concentrating on his wofe who conveniently went nuts when our mother moved into my brother's area 6 months after we lost Dad. Maybe she went nuts to secure her place in my brother's life. But he has a responsibility to his mother ~AND~ the rest of the family. He's called Mom less than 4 times in the last eight months. Seen her less than 4 times in the last eight months. Helped her to settle in her new home less than 4 times in the last eight months. And he and his wife lives less than 4 minutes away.
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