“For the first time she had dimly realized that only the hopeless are starkly sincere and that only the unhappy can either give or take sympathy--even some of the bitter and dangerous voluptuousness of misery.”
I've been cleaning up my email and running across messages I sent around this time last year to the beloved. January 2019 was a hopeful transition for me. Her divorce had gone through about 5 months prior to this date and she was seemingly very happy. She had filled her life with people she previously disliked or had no use for and I couldn't wrap my head around it. Although I should have been out of her life completely, I could not help but constantly bombard her with questions of why these folks got a pass but I was unforgivable. I never got a real answer to that question - even though I know that the answer is that she simply did not like me at all. (It's also not easy to disengage when you have children with someone.)
Things had been rough for her financially through all of this. I constantly used that knowledge to try to win her back. I would tell her that I wanted to take care of her and to provide for her. I'd still do things from time to time (against the advice of many) to help her along. Those actions had no results and only reluctant gratitude. But work really dried up for her in January. It hurt me to see her struggle and I offered to step in to help her drum up business. I tried to coach her in confidence. I helped her build a website. I sent her opportunities related to her craft. I tried to think of people who could move her along. She was seemingly appreciative of these moves. We spent a great deal of time together in January and February. It was a real turn around from what it had been - me constantly upset, angry, begging.
In February, I gave her a pretty special gift for Valentine's Day. She was quite thrilled with it. Soon after, I asked her if she would consider some mediation or counseling that might put us on a path to restoration. She pulled back quickly and refused to give any clear answer. I told her that I could not just be her pal. I did not want to be just another "friend" on the totem pole. Especially considering the friends she had acquired since her divorce. It wasn't that I despised these people but that she had despised them. It baffled me. I had to back off and avoided her through the month of March.
Raising the dead is a dangerous thing. It puts the vehicle in reverse. I sit here alone in my dark living room on an overcast January morning remembering a time, just one year ago, that was sending me into a season of hope. I see her smile again. I see her bright eyes. I see the way she moved across the floor. I see the way she'd tuck her hair behind her ears and my heart weighs heavy.
I have plenty to do today. But, I don't have love to share and I don't have one who cares.