I have decided to revisit certain posts from time to time. Call them a Marty-Replay. Posts I like. Or I’m happy with how they were written and catch the moment just right. Or are particularly relevant even now. But mostly that I like. Here’s the 3rd.
The rain was beyond noisy. I could hear it beating against the windows and thudding heavily on the roof. There was no lightening, and but a modest wind. No rage to the tempest, no rancor, only an incredible downpour. The sky had decided it was time to release the great weight it had been carrying. As I lay awake in the early morning hours, the sounds from the pounding rainstorm mixed with the reverberations going through my head. I listened to the sounds. Outside and inside my mind.
It was done. A few hours earlier, while texting with Cassandra, I called it … over.
I had learned many things from her. The most important perhaps, how to listen and feel. As a born and bred analyst, this was incredibly hard to do and accept. I had ditched that concept a long, long time and many relationships ago. I had been like a stroke victim relearning to walk. But now the words came out. I felt it was time.
“You’re a bit lost these days. At least to me.” I typed.
“No I’m not feeling lost. Just very settled. Happily so.” she said.
“Us really hasn’t had a future for a long time,” I wrote.
“Not as you want it,” came her reply.
“Nope,” I said. “It’s probably time to push the pause button,” I added.
Though the words came out suddenly, they had been hovering in the background for some time. For months. Our relationship was not headed anywhere. For much too long it had been static.
The closeness connection that had bound us so tightly to one another had been fraying. The great physical distance between us had turned into an evil cancer-like organism, cloning and replicating itself into the attachments that were us, our 2-person unique DNA.
For a year I had tried to give her whatever it was she wanted. Mysteriously, she had known what and how to give me what I needed. But both those things were done. She no longer wants anything from me. She now can’t provide what I need.
“Thank you for letting me go” she wrote.
My heart turned … and then exited into the pelting rain.