What dreams may come
Fri, Nov. 10th, 2017 07:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scarlettinaTonight, I'm attending the memorial for my friend's husband, whom I'll refer to as C. C and I met three times. The first was accidental; the three of us were attending a play and we ran into each other there. My friend looked radiant, really happy to be there with C. He was tall and lanky, with wild gray hair. He seemed distracted at the time. The second time was after C got terribly ill. We sat in my friend's living room and chatted--he was present, funny, and engaged--and I developed an immediate liking for him. The third time I saw him, he was still ambulatory but the illness had clearly taken its toll. He was up for no more than a hello. He died two weeks ago.
Given all the illness and death in my social circle these last five years, I made a deliberate choice not to develop a real friendship with C precisely because it was clear that if we got to know each other better, I'd develop an emotional investment and the loss would be deeply painful. C was a character, bigger than life in so many ways. We shared collecting as a passion and it was immediately clear that we got each other in that way. I couldn't bear the idea of getting to know and lose a friend so quickly after all the other recent losses. Another friend of mine made the opposite choice; she got to know him and know him well. His death pains her deeply and she'll be speaking at the memorial tonight.
Last night, all my dreams were of attending the memorial. Over and over again, the memorial: where it will be, who will be there, how the room will be arranged and so on. It's partly because I went to bed thinking about the shallowest of things: what I would wear. Thinking about clothes was a great way to not think about the fact that C's death has affected me, too--but my dreams took care of that pretty effectively.
I'm sad that there wasn't time--that I didn't have the strength--to get to know C before he departed. At the same time, I can't regret the choice I made. Because I made that choice, this loss isn't tearing me to pieces the way others have. At some point, I have to take care of my own battered and threadbare heart. If that's selfish, well, so be it. I'm the only one who can dependably look after me.
Given all the illness and death in my social circle these last five years, I made a deliberate choice not to develop a real friendship with C precisely because it was clear that if we got to know each other better, I'd develop an emotional investment and the loss would be deeply painful. C was a character, bigger than life in so many ways. We shared collecting as a passion and it was immediately clear that we got each other in that way. I couldn't bear the idea of getting to know and lose a friend so quickly after all the other recent losses. Another friend of mine made the opposite choice; she got to know him and know him well. His death pains her deeply and she'll be speaking at the memorial tonight.
Last night, all my dreams were of attending the memorial. Over and over again, the memorial: where it will be, who will be there, how the room will be arranged and so on. It's partly because I went to bed thinking about the shallowest of things: what I would wear. Thinking about clothes was a great way to not think about the fact that C's death has affected me, too--but my dreams took care of that pretty effectively.
I'm sad that there wasn't time--that I didn't have the strength--to get to know C before he departed. At the same time, I can't regret the choice I made. Because I made that choice, this loss isn't tearing me to pieces the way others have. At some point, I have to take care of my own battered and threadbare heart. If that's selfish, well, so be it. I'm the only one who can dependably look after me.
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Date: Sat, Nov. 11th, 2017 01:58 pm (UTC)