Happy new year

 

Tonight, two weeks in advance of everyone else, 2008 ended for us.

How far we came in this year. Whatever happens, we’ll never move so far again.

If I could do that year all over, here’s what I’d change:

I would kiss you more. The chances were there, that I did not take. And I could have created some chances more. So many times I could have kissed you, but didn’t. And now the year is at an end.

I would have given you beautiful things. I didn’t have a whole year. I only started in October. Then, those earrings. Tonight, that necklace.

Once, we talked about gift-giving, and I mentioned jewellery, and you told me how D could never get it – how did I put it? That a woman could never have enough beautiful stuff.

From that moment on I vowed to give you only beautiful stuff, as often as could be. I know you were happy with the earrings. I knew how happy you would be with the necklace.

One day soon, probably next year, in about June or so, you’ll go. You’ll move on forever. You won’t be here any more.

We are not lovers. We can never be lovers. I knew that all along. Nevertheless, as I type these words, I am almost doubled over with weeping. I’ll calm down in order to go on typing, but it won’t go away.

I want you to have some beautiful stuff to take with you, so that I can stay with you, in some way. Yes, I know you’ll never forget me. I know what happens to the people we “never forget”.

Given the feeble nature of memory, I reckon beautiful stuff is more reliable. And you look more beautiful wearing it.

The Frontal Cortex : I See Dead People

 

The Frontal Cortex : I See Dead People

Mind Hacks: The dead stay with us

Scientific American Mind Matter's blog has just published an article I wrote on grief hallucinations, the remarkably common experience of seeing, hearing, touching or sensing our loved ones after they've passed away.

Grief hallucinations are a normal reaction to having someone close to you die and are a common part of the mourning process, but it's remarkable how often people are embarrassed to say they've had the experience because they worry what others might think.

I was inspired to write the piece after reading a wonderful paper, published in Transcultural Psychiatry, by psychiatrist Carlos Sluzki on the cultural significance of one Hispanic lady's post-grief hallucinations.

My reference to the shadow cat draws on the intro to Sluzki's article which must be one of the most beautiful openings to an academic article I've ever read.

Mind Hacks: The dead stay with us

Apple

Image by *brilho-de-conta via Flickr

Last night she embraced another man. Yes, I know continentals do that, but this was a little too enthusiastic on his part, at least.

And so I awoke at 5 am, jealousy gnawing at my insides, unable to fall asleep again. Some things never change.

There’s nothing to it, but a jealous man doesn’t care about that. She thinks I’m a saint and a superhero, but the darkness is lurking. There’s a worm in the centre of the apple.

In dreams I walk with you

Last night, in a dream, you kissed me. I was aiming for the cheek, and you turned your head. As always, the torrent of emotion made me wake up. It’s too bad that all these things can only happen in my dreams, Roy Orbison sings.

On the outside, I appear to be making progress. I no longer bitch and whine, “Oh, I have to see you, you must see me, I miss you, come on waaah waaah” and so on.

But inside, the longing for you is as strong as ever it was. And in the night, it overflows.

Dream

Image by ___federico___ via Flickr

One day I’m going to wake up and find that it was all a dream. That does seem the most likely explanation.

But will I be panting, sweat-soaked, relieved to escape the nightmare? Or will I shed tears in the darkness, grasping at a dream that can never be recaptured?

Which of those two endings sounds the better?

Heartbreak

Image by moominsean via Flickr

I think tonight my heart actually broke. I can’t describe it any other way.

I’ve been telling you all along, full of conviction: we can never be lovers.

Tonight, I now realise for the first time, I truly believed it. Something made me realise it is actually true. And I became aware that I have been paying lip-service to the idea all along. I’ve been entertaining notions of success. Tonight I saw with perfect clarity: it’s not ever going to happen.

I suppose the realisation is analogous to hearing that a loved one has died. I sat here and cried like a baby. I’m about ready to go off again just thinking about typing that admission. I’m feeling washed-out, literally. Sluiced, hosed, laved. Gotta say: it can’t have helped that I was listening to Emmylou Harris at the time.

So that’s it. The dream is over, and not even stubborn naive delusion can bring it back. Now all I have to do is figure out what to do about still being in love with you. I wonder what Emmylou has to say about that.