I went back... and this is what I found.
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Thread Starter
Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: Austin
Posts: 31
I went back... and this is what I found.
I was finding it difficult to let go of the 'us', and when I turned to a trusted relative for advice, one thing that stuck out in my mind was her suggestion to write my xabf a letter... a letter in which I could tell him anything I wanted, everything even. How much I loved and hated him, how much he ruined my life, how much he meant to me, what I was doing to become a better person. etc....
But what to do with it afterward? Keep it around? Let it lay in an envelope until some poor soul in my home found it? Or worse, me? No. No thank you. I'd rather not have something like that floating around....
So instead I decided to put the letter in a bottle, seal it, and bury it at Our Beach.
Now, let me tell you about Our Beach... right off the banks of the San Gabriel River, it was the most beautiful place in the world to be. It was where he first told me he loved me, where he taught me how to swim, and fish, and just... it was perfect. Looking up- or downriver, all you could see was a tunnel created by the overgrowth of the trees creating a verdant arch with soft dappling light passing through.... and this beach, this little spot of heaven for me, was the only place where I truly felt safe, be it in his arms, alone, or even in a memory: sober or drunk. The beach was the only spot that had no trees creating a canopy over the creek, but it did have a perfect spot for chairs, a blanket, and enough privacy to goad anyone into letting their guard down.
Perfect, really.
So I took the 5-page, front-and-back handwritten letter, rolled it up tight, and drove an hour out to the rig where he used to live... all this time, I was imagining what it would look like, I hadn't even been out there in seven months, but in my memory it was always beautifully rundown.
As I turned on that country road, the first thing I notice is that the tree-lined dirt road was no longer a dirt road, but a full on solid ground road. The tree-lined part? no more. Every single tree down that damned road was ripped up and cast to the side in a smoldering pile of intertwined broken branches. The fence was no longer an endearing string of barbed wire on old wooden posts that meandered between tree and limb, root and road: No, it was metal posts stabbed into the ground, declaring their permanence with an unnatural audacity. The road-side path that led from his house to the pastures was completely overgrown with weeds, recently filled with dirt, and crawling with the cold clammy foreshadowing feeling of what was to come.
I parked my car in an inconspicuous place, put on my boots (you never know with all that tall grass) and started my half-mile hike onto private property in an attempt to leave my worries and hurt behind.
Ducking under the brand-new gate, hidden by the tree line, I started to reminiscing as I walked along... right there, you see where those clumps of trees in the middle of the pasture? We drove out here, away from the lights and sounds of the world on my birthday, snuggled up with blankets and pillows on the bed of his truck, and counted stars until late.
Over there, where you see a break in the trees and that white silo? He cleaned that out a few months ago, in the bitter cold. I was there when he got home, and when I offered to rub his feet after bending over shoveling wasted grain all day, he quietly and soberly, almost to himself really, revealed to me that he'd never had someone take such good care of him before and that he genuinely appreciated it.
That was before the arrest. The felonious and loathed third DUI. The prison sentence. Before rehab. Before a secret fervent love letter exchange began, before he stopped seeing me, before my world came to a sudden and screeching halt that February 7th.
Shaking my head back to the present, I put a stop to the sadomasochistic path in which I was heading.
So I pressed onward. On and on and on, through thorns and bristles, through mud and **** and overgrowth... until I found the inconspicuous spot cloaked in a curtain of dried up reaching vine tendrils. Stepping through the facade, my breath was taken away when it suddenly dawned on me as I looked around that this was not my safe place anymore.
The path no longer held any of the green mystery as it did before.
The nature-made steps leading to the water's edge no longer bore any resemblance to Cinderella's staircase anymore.
The beach?
The beach. The rocky shores that allowed our past love affair to haunt its nooks and crannies was overrun with felled trees. A violent mudslide had ripped open the soft canopy of leaves. Animals, domesticated and feral, had reduced it to nothing more than a weed-filled landfill of ****, mud, and nothing more.
My safe place was no more.
Isn't it funny how the things we expect to never change are the ones that change the most?
Instead of burying my letter, I drowned it. I strapped a rock to the bottle and threw it into the middle of what was left of my paradise lost.
Looking at my surroundings with unfogged eyes, I came to the realization that while I have been reminiscing old memories and living with my head in the clouds, the world has gone on around me.
People have changed. The world has changed. The boundaries of this now-wretched place were ripped out, reinforced, and set in stone... The paths set before me were no longer conducive to a safe place, instead they were downright hazardous. The ghosts of a relationship come and gone no longer lazily lingered with the sun's rays, but instead faded and finally came to disappear.
How it hurt to see my memories decompose right before me... to see that what I had worked so long and hard for, side by side with him, reduced to nothing more than ink on a page.
I wish I had something really great to learn from this. I really do. I wish I had something so deep and profound and insightful to say regarding this trip. I wish I could say that I lost my heartache and left the pain behind.
But I didn't.
What I did come to realize is that we all have loss. Certain things need to be ripped out and replaced with something better. For me, it was knowing that I came, I saw, I conquered.
There's a lot more work to do up ahead. A lot more trees need to be felled, and a lot more dirt paths need to either be filled or reinforced. I can feel it.
But that's a challenge I'm willing to take.
But what to do with it afterward? Keep it around? Let it lay in an envelope until some poor soul in my home found it? Or worse, me? No. No thank you. I'd rather not have something like that floating around....
So instead I decided to put the letter in a bottle, seal it, and bury it at Our Beach.
Now, let me tell you about Our Beach... right off the banks of the San Gabriel River, it was the most beautiful place in the world to be. It was where he first told me he loved me, where he taught me how to swim, and fish, and just... it was perfect. Looking up- or downriver, all you could see was a tunnel created by the overgrowth of the trees creating a verdant arch with soft dappling light passing through.... and this beach, this little spot of heaven for me, was the only place where I truly felt safe, be it in his arms, alone, or even in a memory: sober or drunk. The beach was the only spot that had no trees creating a canopy over the creek, but it did have a perfect spot for chairs, a blanket, and enough privacy to goad anyone into letting their guard down.
Perfect, really.
So I took the 5-page, front-and-back handwritten letter, rolled it up tight, and drove an hour out to the rig where he used to live... all this time, I was imagining what it would look like, I hadn't even been out there in seven months, but in my memory it was always beautifully rundown.
As I turned on that country road, the first thing I notice is that the tree-lined dirt road was no longer a dirt road, but a full on solid ground road. The tree-lined part? no more. Every single tree down that damned road was ripped up and cast to the side in a smoldering pile of intertwined broken branches. The fence was no longer an endearing string of barbed wire on old wooden posts that meandered between tree and limb, root and road: No, it was metal posts stabbed into the ground, declaring their permanence with an unnatural audacity. The road-side path that led from his house to the pastures was completely overgrown with weeds, recently filled with dirt, and crawling with the cold clammy foreshadowing feeling of what was to come.
I parked my car in an inconspicuous place, put on my boots (you never know with all that tall grass) and started my half-mile hike onto private property in an attempt to leave my worries and hurt behind.
Ducking under the brand-new gate, hidden by the tree line, I started to reminiscing as I walked along... right there, you see where those clumps of trees in the middle of the pasture? We drove out here, away from the lights and sounds of the world on my birthday, snuggled up with blankets and pillows on the bed of his truck, and counted stars until late.
Over there, where you see a break in the trees and that white silo? He cleaned that out a few months ago, in the bitter cold. I was there when he got home, and when I offered to rub his feet after bending over shoveling wasted grain all day, he quietly and soberly, almost to himself really, revealed to me that he'd never had someone take such good care of him before and that he genuinely appreciated it.
That was before the arrest. The felonious and loathed third DUI. The prison sentence. Before rehab. Before a secret fervent love letter exchange began, before he stopped seeing me, before my world came to a sudden and screeching halt that February 7th.
Shaking my head back to the present, I put a stop to the sadomasochistic path in which I was heading.
So I pressed onward. On and on and on, through thorns and bristles, through mud and **** and overgrowth... until I found the inconspicuous spot cloaked in a curtain of dried up reaching vine tendrils. Stepping through the facade, my breath was taken away when it suddenly dawned on me as I looked around that this was not my safe place anymore.
The path no longer held any of the green mystery as it did before.
The nature-made steps leading to the water's edge no longer bore any resemblance to Cinderella's staircase anymore.
The beach?
The beach. The rocky shores that allowed our past love affair to haunt its nooks and crannies was overrun with felled trees. A violent mudslide had ripped open the soft canopy of leaves. Animals, domesticated and feral, had reduced it to nothing more than a weed-filled landfill of ****, mud, and nothing more.
My safe place was no more.
Isn't it funny how the things we expect to never change are the ones that change the most?
Instead of burying my letter, I drowned it. I strapped a rock to the bottle and threw it into the middle of what was left of my paradise lost.
Looking at my surroundings with unfogged eyes, I came to the realization that while I have been reminiscing old memories and living with my head in the clouds, the world has gone on around me.
People have changed. The world has changed. The boundaries of this now-wretched place were ripped out, reinforced, and set in stone... The paths set before me were no longer conducive to a safe place, instead they were downright hazardous. The ghosts of a relationship come and gone no longer lazily lingered with the sun's rays, but instead faded and finally came to disappear.
How it hurt to see my memories decompose right before me... to see that what I had worked so long and hard for, side by side with him, reduced to nothing more than ink on a page.
I wish I had something really great to learn from this. I really do. I wish I had something so deep and profound and insightful to say regarding this trip. I wish I could say that I lost my heartache and left the pain behind.
But I didn't.
What I did come to realize is that we all have loss. Certain things need to be ripped out and replaced with something better. For me, it was knowing that I came, I saw, I conquered.
There's a lot more work to do up ahead. A lot more trees need to be felled, and a lot more dirt paths need to either be filled or reinforced. I can feel it.
But that's a challenge I'm willing to take.
Community Greeter
Join Date: Aug 2011
Posts: 16,246
WOW, Jellybelly. Thank you for sharing such a personal experience. It is as if I can "feel" what you are feeling in your heart.
This journey through grief feels as if we are being torn wide open, in preparation for something more precious to be let in. I have had to walk that walk, myself.
My heart goes out to you.
dandylion
This journey through grief feels as if we are being torn wide open, in preparation for something more precious to be let in. I have had to walk that walk, myself.
My heart goes out to you.
dandylion
Community Greeter
Join Date: Aug 2011
Posts: 16,246
By the way, I would like to say that you write beautifully! I have to ask....have you had any special training...if that is not to personal to ask?
If you are not using this talent (except of letter writing), you should be!!!
dandylion
If you are not using this talent (except of letter writing), you should be!!!
dandylion
Member
Join Date: Jul 2012
Location: SAN FRANCISCO
Posts: 1,176
That is beautifully written...
I hope someday you find the peace you are seeking (as well as I). Grief is not fun or easy and it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I do know we will get better with time.
I hope someday you find the peace you are seeking (as well as I). Grief is not fun or easy and it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I do know we will get better with time.
Member
Join Date: Sep 2012
Posts: 378
YOU are such a talented writer - whoa! So beautiful! Taken aback - do you write often? If not I sure hope you start, you are gifted!
This is a beautiful life lesson of letting go - Certain things need to be ripped out and replaced with something better.
This is a beautiful life lesson of letting go - Certain things need to be ripped out and replaced with something better.
Member
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 183
I loved your post and it reminds me of the last time I was in our home. I really looked at it, not at what I had envisioned in my head, of how he would fix this or that, or how I envisioned the garden would look like, but, really looked at it. And I found that I didn't know it at all, I felt like I was a ghost, intruding in someone else's home. Her things were already scattered around, not even two weeks after I left in distress. I was so easily replaced.
I noticed she or someone was cleaning up for him, she or he was doing his laundry (whites and darks mixed...shiver), someone was cooking the food I had bought less than 10 days ago, eating off of the plates I bought, on the chairs I bought, using the detergent and cleaning supplies I bought....it was so surreal. So, I noticed there was beer in the fridge and decided, **** it, I am having one. And I had two. Left the remnants of my little tirade in their (THEIR) kitchen sink.
She was in my spot in the garage. Her stink was everywhere. And btw, my favorite pair of Marc Jacobs mouse flats have been missing ever since. So, not only did she take over my life, she stole from me. Which I knew would happen.
So, I relate it to dying and coming back later and seeing how "their" life goes on without you. I was a ghost. I didn't matter anymore. My Marc Jacobs have already been replaced. My bed has been replaced, my food, my cleaning supplies, my house even has been replaced. (Well, not moving in until the 1st). I feel like I've been in some limbo for the last two months and I cannot wait until 10/01 comes around, because I will finally feel like I have my own home, that I don't have to keep a certain way. Wow, my bday is actually on 01/10... and to think that my new life begins on 10/01 just hit me in the face.
Sorry, but your post brought up a lot of emotions that I had been ignoring. Good, no beautiful writing.
I noticed she or someone was cleaning up for him, she or he was doing his laundry (whites and darks mixed...shiver), someone was cooking the food I had bought less than 10 days ago, eating off of the plates I bought, on the chairs I bought, using the detergent and cleaning supplies I bought....it was so surreal. So, I noticed there was beer in the fridge and decided, **** it, I am having one. And I had two. Left the remnants of my little tirade in their (THEIR) kitchen sink.
She was in my spot in the garage. Her stink was everywhere. And btw, my favorite pair of Marc Jacobs mouse flats have been missing ever since. So, not only did she take over my life, she stole from me. Which I knew would happen.
So, I relate it to dying and coming back later and seeing how "their" life goes on without you. I was a ghost. I didn't matter anymore. My Marc Jacobs have already been replaced. My bed has been replaced, my food, my cleaning supplies, my house even has been replaced. (Well, not moving in until the 1st). I feel like I've been in some limbo for the last two months and I cannot wait until 10/01 comes around, because I will finally feel like I have my own home, that I don't have to keep a certain way. Wow, my bday is actually on 01/10... and to think that my new life begins on 10/01 just hit me in the face.
Sorry, but your post brought up a lot of emotions that I had been ignoring. Good, no beautiful writing.
Member
Join Date: Mar 2009
Posts: 1,334
Ce Ce Winans has a beautiful song that raps it up- the pain we feel- "Take your time- 'cause time is what it's gonna take - and one morning you'll awake- and find there's one less tear- and you'll heal- I know you will." Take your time.
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: Austin
Posts: 31
Originally Posted by WishingWell 
do you write often?[/I]
And no more training than your average college grad
I'll eventually be ok. It's just hard to let go of some things, especially when they meant so much to you... sober AND drunk. Bah!
-jb
Member
Join Date: May 2012
Posts: 237
Originally Posted by tjp613
Beautifully written. I think you should submit it to a magazine. That's what I think.
Going through same thing as you and few others too. I did the letter but burned it on top of hill nearby. We will be ok.
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