Tag Archives: heartbreak

L’chaim

The usual fodder here is fiction, my random musings generally prompted by online writing communities. Today I’m unnaturally reflective, as it’s my 48th birthday. Big deal, right? Aging may suck, but it’s better than the alternative.

Having recently been diagnosed with beginning stage osteoarthritis, I feel like whining. My fingers and palms ache every morning when I wake up.  BUT … I wake up. I can move. I can go to work. Life is good.

Even though I’m not an outwardly demonstrative person, emotion got the best of me over the weekend. My seven-year old insisted on knowing whether or not Santa Claus is real and gave me several possibilities of who first presented the possibility to him. After pressing me several times, I fessed up, and he got pretty upset at the reality. I couldn’t uphold the façade when he asked me not to lie to him. So we both cried, inching so much further to the total erasure of innocence. He told me that his “imagination was closed,” and the statement almost broke my heart. I want him to stay as young and unaffected for as long as he can.

We are so fortunate to have such a great kid, no matter how old we are. My biggest fear in life is to miss seeing him grow up and pass all the milestones people take for granted are guaranteed to us.

My friend, Mary, recently received a lung cancer diagnosis. She is also 48 years old and full of life. Although we only converse via social media any more, I doubt she will dare utter any negativity about her precarious situation. That’s not her style. The woman is fierce, and I admire her bravery.

I raise my proverbial glass to another year of possibilities – cheers!

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Saving Face

tangledThe tables had turned, and the shoe was now on the other foot. Whatever cliché she wanted to throw at it, the situation had changed to her satisfaction. Finally. After all those years, she finally felt some closure about the way he had treated her.

Of course, she hadn’t known it at the time. He was the kind of guy who did things behind her back, unfortunately setting the tone for future relationships. She took people at face value and trusted them, especially being such a young woman, but not everyone deserves that respect. Tricksters like him needed to earn that loyalty, a hard lesson learned by dating him.

Life can kick a girl in the ass to wake her up and teach her a hard lesson. And, so early on, this was one of those times.

The lies. Her incredible naiveté. Only a girl who already had intimacy issues would believe the whoppers he told. Even though she felt so grown up dating much older boys, those who’d already graduated.

A few friends knew of his misgivings, about the other girls he dated behind her back. They didn’t tell her, though. One of the many ways women let each other down. Trusting that pig was easier than believing something she didn’t want to hear.

What teenage girl doesn’t want to believe her boyfriend thinks she is beautiful and will love only her? He wouldn’t dare leave town to visit his parents but actually have another girl in the car instead. Surely that girl had forced herself on him and planted the hickey on his neck just to piss her off. That’s what he claimed.

She wondered what kind of slut does that.

Good guys didn’t do things like that. It was the girl’s fault. Nice boyfriends swayed opinions, they called her parents “Mom” and “Dad” to force a good impression. Those nice fellas talked about going on a couple’s cruise one day, getting married and putting a ring on a girl’s finger to assure the promise.

Those guys don’t ask her friends to come see a new puppy but not mention it to his girlfriend. There would never be a girl leaving his house at the same moment his girlfriend arrived and claim she’d dropped off a lost baseball glove. And those guys would certainly never pass along a nasty little sexually transmitted infection.

They don’t set such an ugly precedent for that girl’s future. Not a great guy like him.

Time and trouble bring a greater wisdom, though.

The inevitable split was less than amicable, and he’d told his friends it was her doing. That she’d left a surprise party he hosted for her, with another guy no less. Yet one more lie. Funny. It was March, and her birthday was in August.

He was so full of shit.

He had the nerve to call years later saying he needed a friend who would listen. The tears in his voice only fueled her scorn, but she was glad to not see him cry in person. He’s an ugly crier. Scoffing at someone over the phone is a lot easier than face-to-face.

To squeeze in a final cliché, she who laughs last laughs loudest. In response to his request for a shoulder to cry on, she replied that he was “the most worthless-piece-of-crap-poor-excuse-for-a-human-being she’d ever met in her life” and to, in no uncertain terms, never call her again. “Forget you ever had this number,” she blasted as she slammed down the receiver.

Satisfaction leached from her pores for such ugly words. The long overdue message’s release broke the silence of her soul. A great resolve filled the space resentment had once occupied. She promised herself to never fall for a liar ever, ever again.

Until the next time.

*This post was prompted by the line he’s an ugly crier by LM Leffew.

Studio30

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Filed under creative non-fiction, writing

Seeking solace

There are only two weeks left before I have a miniature crisis.  The thought of sending my only child off to Kindergarten is really getting to me.  He seems pretty okay with it, but I’m headed for a breakdown.

Maybe it’s about getting old, but – hell – I’ve been old for quite some time.  More likely it’s about him not being my little boy any more.  I never imagined myself having these feelings.  But it’s not about me.  He’s starting a new adventure in his life.

A great blogger over on Daddy Knows Less  is celebrating this time period with a “One Last Summer as My Baby” tour.  I wish I could easily adopt his glass-half-full attitude.  My son and I have spent several days at the pool this summer and bonded over throwing the squishy ball and games of “What Time is it Mrs. Whale?”  (No cracks about the Mrs. Whale thing … it’s not me.)  We’ve also gotten to know every character on Sunday afternoon repeats of Call of the Wildman and Gator Boys.  There are some very in-depth conversations about the length of snakes and Turtleman’s uncanny ability to smoke a groundhog out of a hole.  He’s decided he wants Jeremy Wade’s job and his ability to catch River Monsters.

photo – m19.com

Now that I’ve admitted how my t.v. obsession is being passed down to the next generation, I must say how much I’ve loved our time together this summer.  He’s a great kid, is so amazingly funny and sharp, and I’m glad we get to have our own last hoorah before school starts.  Little guy and I are soon off in a plane to visit my sister in California.  They talk on the phone quite a bit, but now it’s time for them to do their bonding, with me along for the ride.  My little wildman gets to see a new part of the world, with its own sea creatures and curiosities.  One of my hopes for him is that he’ll see many places of great wonder in his lifetime.  He is so inquisitive and vibrant, he’s sure to seek out his passions everywhere!

I’m savoring every last moment of him being not quite old enough to think I’m lame and not want to talk to me around his school friends.  Maybe I’ll feel better about it all when I see that he’ll be okay on the school bus.  A tiny little crying baby is now the great big boy I wished he was when he was colicky.

Never wish those moments away.  They’re gone before we know it and the time is still bittersweet.

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