Day 15: Narrate a Conversation Between You and Someone Who You Never Had Closure With
It’s been almost exactly a year since I posted my last #30DayBloggingChallenge blog. I actually wrote this a year ago and wasn’t brave enough to post it. Since I wrote this blog, I have actually had this final conversation of closure with this person, who many of you will recognize from my latest book I’ve Never Been to Vegas but My Luggage Has. I’ll save that final conversation for another day…but for now, here’s what I imagined I would say to him after two years of silence.
Narrate a conversation between you and someone in your life who you never had closure with (a friend, an ex, a family member, etc.) What would you say? What would they say? What outcome would you hope for?
I obviously know the person I feel like I never had true closure with, and anyone who has been following my blog for any amount of time probably also knows: My Mr. E. i.e. “Mr. Elusive,” i.e. “Mystery,” i.e. my real-life “Mr. Big.” But what I don’t know is his part of the conversation. What his responses would be to any of my questions. If I did know, I guess his nickname wouldn’t be “Mr. E,” now would it? That’s why I’ve decided to rephrase this question to read: “What would you say to the person you feel like you never had closure with?” (Feel free to answer this question whichever way you choose, in whatever way feels most natural and beneficial to you and your journey and creative and growth process.)
Why have I been avoiding this question? I think for the same reason I try and avoid all thoughts of Mr. E whenever possible: Because I’m not over him. Because I still think about him all the time. Because I have to block his Facebook updates so they don’t come to my newsfeed because when and if the day comes that something pops up telling me he’s engaged or getting married or even just “in a relationship,” I’m not sure my heart will be able to handle it. Do I or have I put my life on hold for him? No. I haven’t. I live fully and I live big and I try to be as open as I possibly can to new love finding me. But at night, once I’ve taken off my makeup and my defenses are down and my mind starts to wander…it seems rather than new love sitting down at the table of my life to join me, old love finds its way back in…and I’m back there again. Back in the middle of the moment when I last saw him…standing at a crowded train station in Queens…clinging to him for dear life, never wanting to let go…because I knew the moment I did, he would disappear down the street and out of my life with the same haste that a New York City taxi speeds away from the curb. Close my eyes even a little and I’m back in that moment, wondering what I could do or say differently to change the way the story would go. To change the fact that more than two years would pass before I’d see him or talk to him or even hear a word of any kind from him at all. I can taste the tears and hear the sounds of the train speeding down the track and smell his clean, fresh linen shirt as I rest my head on his shoulder for perhaps the last time. In my mind, I can almost rewind every moment since that one and close my eyes tight enough to feel like, for a second, I’m back there with him and we’re still “Us” and there’s still a chance to find and mend the errant thread of our “almost-relationship” before it unravels and leaves us spiraling off in separate directions, on separate coasts, living separate lives.
But I’m not there. I’m here. And I can’t change the story. I guess I’m probably not meant to.
But if by some miracle or wrinkle in time or wiggle of the nose or dash of fairy dust or clicking together of my heels three times, I could turn back the clock and go back to that moment, standing at that train station in Queens…here’s what I would say.
“Did you ever really love me? Did you and I ever really become an ‘us’ in your mind, or were we always ‘you’ and ‘I’? Did you really plan on putting a ring on my finger that day? Or any day? Was it all a mirage that I saw because I wanted to see it and needed to see it…or did those moments that felt so magical to me happen for you, too? Was I a “safe settle” or a “conscious choice”? Have you missed me at all? Do you think about me when I’m not around? Do you have any idea how much I think about you? Did you know that you feel like an extension of me, and that I can’t imagine my life without you in it? Are you really ready to let me walk away without a fight? If you knew in your heart that this was the last time you’d see me…that this was our last shot…would you do anything differently?”
And the questions that haunt me most of all…
“Did I imagine that this entire relationship meant more than it did? Was it all one-sided? Did I write and produce and star in a movie of my own making? Or were you in it with me, feeling and loving and trying and hurting and risking and soaring and losing and falling?
Was I always your option…while you were my choice?”
I suppose part of getting the answers we seek is being bold enough to ask the questions…and brave enough to face whatever is on the other side of those questions. Or maybe some answers simply aren’t meant to be known…because they would hurt too much, or set us on a course where we don’t belong, or change our story all together. Maybe sometimes the not knowing is better than the knowing because in the not knowing, we can write our own ending. Find our own closure. Tell our own story, in the way we think it should be told. In the way we wished it would be told. Or maybe it doesn’t matter what questions we ask or don’t ask, or what things we say or don’t say…because things are going to turn out the way they’re going to turn out, regardless. Maybe no matter which way it would have gone that day, Mr. E and I still would have wound up as supporting actors in each other’s stories rather than leads.
I don’t know. I may never know. I can’t go back in time, I can’t rewrite the past, I can’t change the choices I made or the things I did or didn’t say.
All I can do is hope that at future train stations, with future guys, at future times…the memory of not saying what I needed to say in the past will give me the courage to say everything I need to say in the present.
***Join my 30-Day Blogging Challenge at any time either by commenting below, or responding to the challenges each day on your own personal blog and sharing the link below or on social media. All the details HERE! Make sure to hashtag all posts on Twitter and Facebook #TheSW30.
ALSO: If you want to read the full story about my “Mr. E” (and if you’ve ever had an on-again, off-again love, I highly recommend it) you can get your copy of my latest book and New York Times Bestseller, I’ve Never Been to Vegas But My Luggage Has, an any bookstore.