Sunday, May 06, 2012

Spiral Notebook Sunday: Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Tonight's Spiral Notebook selection is something of a teaser for a forthcoming post that is written in response to the prompting of our talented taskmaster TangledLou, who recently asked us all to write of first loves. I have written of Mr. High School here before, and will again, at least once more since Lou has provided me the excuse I'm always looking for.

This entry was written not quite two years after his death.


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Wednesday, May 14, 2008


...All this time, I had clung to that notion--how grateful I was to have had that sliver of time with Mr. High School as an adult and how gratitude overshadowed any remaining questions or unresolved issues in my mind. And, last night, I saw that notion for what it was--a delusion.

A delusion born of self-preservation no doubt, but a delusion nonetheless.

How could I have thought, even for a moment, even under the duress of there's nothing to be done about it in any case, that our renewed contact resolved things in any permanent way? How could I have imagined that the questions it answered could somehow outweigh the questions it raised? Perhaps most foolish of all--how the hell did I trick myself into believing that his death was any kind of resolution at all? Wasn't my Mr. High School thing always as much in my head and heart as it was about him? All his death means is that the "facts" can't change--but my perceptions of them are as unlikely to stand still as ever.

10 comments:

  1. Death doesn't really end anything, does it. The thoughts in our heads, especially unresolved ones, continue sometimes, exactly as they did when they were here. :o/

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    1. I've definitely found that it doesn't end things--especially in our closest relationships. And the unresolved thoughts apply to all too many of my lost loved ones, which is probably a pretty universal thing as well.

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  2. I just read all your Mr. High School posts. I had to fight tears when you wrote about his death. You have a very powerful and poignant way of describing him and your relationship. I look forward to you writing more about him.
    (Your husband's comments made me laugh.)

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    1. Thanks Jewels. It was sweet of you to read all of those old posts. And yes, Hubby can be quite a goofball.

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  3. Hrm. I have such an odd, close connection to this. You write so well about such a dear thing. I can't wait to read more.
    Am I a taskmaster? Am I talented? I own to none of these things. ;)

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    1. Oh, you're a talented taskmaster all right, and I wouldn't trade you for anything. :)

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  4. I agree with Jewels- you do write very poignantly about this subject, it's very touching. And Noisy Quiet is right- death doesn't really conclude anything at all, I speak from experience. It just forks the road. I hate falling behind and reading things late- all I'm left with is, "What she said!"

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    1. Thanks for the compliments--I always (still) feel a little goofy taking it so seriously.

      And I know the falling behind feeling all too well. :)

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  5. I read all your Mr. High School posts, too, and found myself scooting to the edge of my chair. Why do we do that?

    Anyway, this entry, as with all your others, is achingly beautiful. And true. And I hate the pain you've been through and love the way you share it. I hope that sharing with us helps lighten the load somehow.

    And I want to give you a hug. So, imagine a hug, k?

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    1. Thanks for the hug--and thanks for slogging through all of that. I have another post 3/4 of the way finished--which covers some of the same ground but in an entirely different way, I think. I have been (as TangledLou would say) in a steel-cage grudge match with the damned post for weeks now. :)

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