A Visitation - If Only For a Moment

A particular person from my past has been occupying my mind frequently lately. Not a romantic past, although those kinds of thoughts existed once upon a time. It just wasn't in the cards for that relationship.

The thing is that he's gone now, and I never said goodbye. I'm sure he waited for me to reach out for that, but I stupidly - so stupidly - told myself I had more time.  Then, I didn't.  All of a sudden, the window closed, and one of my deepest regrets opened.

I think about that a lot. the words of James Taylor's "Fire and Rain" say it for me: "I always thought that I'd see you again."  

I often wonder if he knows that, if he knows the special part of my heart he occupies.  The dead come close to me - often - but I haven't known if he does.  Did my silence hurt him enough that even his spirit avoids me?

Early this morning, in my dreamscape, I was in what seemed to be an airport. Not surprising, as the desire for travel has been strong lately.  I was watching the people milling around, on their way here and there.  I stood still, watching from a doorway.

Then, from around the corner to my right, came my friend. His intention was to come to see me. As he stepped around the corner, his eyes swept along the milling crowds, with an expression that seemed to say, "Well, here I am now."

I don't usually recall my dreams. But I can see him clearly still. The trimmed haircut and beard. His bright eyes. The slight smirk. He wore a polo-style shirt, with a yellow collar, and yellow and white stripes. I can still feel the waffle-like weave of the fabric as I quite literally leaped to hug him to me as he turned to me. 

"I thought I'd never see you again!" I was exclaiming as we hugged each other. My joy was overwhelming - I could tell him all the things I wish I had.

Then, the airport started fading, the people disappeared around us. 

No no no!  Don't wake me up now! I held on tighter, took in all the details I could as he silently slipped away from me again. 

I fought it, but my waking consciousness took over...and I was alone in my room, in the dark, my arms empty. My words still unsaid.

I miss him so much, for so many reasons.  Not for the things I wish I'd said, but for all the things we shared.  I'll believe I got to hug him again, for what it was worth.

Such a different world

Dear Diary, my last writing to you want almost two years ago. Not only have things in my life happened, but we also now live in a different world.  The pandemic has changed things in unimaginable ways. World events have shaped and changed us, as well.  Personally, I find myself in a pit, and I need to find the ;adder out.

This blog is my only shot to find the first rung, I think. I have things I need to say that I cannot say to anyone else.  I don't want to usual dance of, "No!  All will be well!" or "Thoughts and pryers for you!" No, I need to be real.

My office sent everyone home to work nearly a yea ago, when lockdown happened.  We have not been back yet. In some ways, things got better, but in many ways they got worse.  Our boss is in control overdrive. Why hire people who are experts in their field, if you don't trust them to do the work autonomously?  The pressure is intense, and the appreciation is low.

I feel the need for a change, but I'm at a place in my life where I must make moves very carefully and deliberately. If I had my 'druthers, I'd be in Yorkshire. I'd have a flat or even a cottage in York, surrounded by history and cloudy says.  I'd spend my days exploring snickleways (is that not the best word?) and perusing museums, and generally living among the good ghosts.  Maybe I could tell their stories, as well.

Someday, I will make that happen.  I don't know how, but that's where my heart is.

At the same time, I hide myself. Pandemic living has not been good for my health. I also feel my loneliness intensely.  All I ever wanted was my love story.  After being repeatedly smacked down, I've finally gotten the message: no love story is intended for me.  It is not to be.  No one exists who wishes to love me in that unselfish, caring, mutually-cherished way that love should be.  No. One. Cares.  At least, not in a romantic sense.

And who can blame them? I look in the mirror, and I don't know that person. I despise everything I see. I voiced that once, and the response I got was, "No one else sees you that way. You're beautiful."  They are mistaken, and I can prove it.

I put it to the test, pre-pandemic. It was intended to be a passionate few days.  However, I proved to be so repulsive, so repugnant, that someone who loves women of all kinds had no desire for me.  That was the final confirmation of my abject ugliness. I've become a misshapen monster. Who cares if the path that led me here is not my fault - the outcome is the same.

I have always been, and always will be someone that people easily walk away from and forget. Again and again.  I just do not matter.  It's pretty bad when even God doesn't want you.

But my dog needs and loves me.  That thought has seen me through some horrible times.

So, that's my current brain dump. I don't know what I'll make of it, but I hope writing about it helps. I doubt anyone else will ever see this, but that's okay. Writing it means I don't have to chase the words around my brain anymore.  I can make room for new words.

Until next time, dear Diary.