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There's no word in the English language for it. Descriptions in other terms can convey the meaning, perhaps, and even generate a sympathetic reaction in listeners, but as with all things the nature of it seems to call out for a word, a name. I would once have felt competent to give it a name, but I don't feel strong enough to label it now. I'm afraid. I wondered why I was afraid, and I think I'm afraid that if I give it a name, it'll become real. Of course, it's real already, or I wouldn't be suffering. But I'm afraid that by acknowledging it I'll be giving it more existence than I can handle. I guess I should have expected it. We were far apart. I made an art of taking her for granted, and assumed things would just work naturally. I felt no distance between us, but I also felt no need to reinforce the bonds that tied us together. So in a way it's my fault. And that's tied up in the nameless sense that has me so completely bound. Guilt is a horrible motivator. I'm not allowed to wallow, though, because I must admit to myself that guilt is simply one small component. It adds spice to the crippling and intoxicating brew, but it's not a basic ingredient. When I examine it, I can see it all, but I can't separate the strands out. They're just moments strung together. It's a melody too sweet and sour to bear, my fibre tells me, but impossible for me to ignore, either. Snippets of moments- A hurried grasp, a desperate crush of love in a clinging morning embrace, rush to catch a plane, a beach a snowy park crunch of snow under snow clad lights palm trees brief California dreams a boat a subway holding hands a sense of hope and freedom a thousand mementoes charms a word a touch, dreams of futures in a hand's caress, a kiss, a furtive glance shared between lovers long separated and newly rejoined. The pain of knowledge, leaving, sudden death, an accident and another man, fears of distance of futures of love of hopes and mismatched places and times, loss and regret, shame of conduct slowly crushing love and desperation fraying nerves. Above all else, a deep sense of loss and loss and a sudden sharp loneliness. Where did that come from? I mean, where did it come from that it can be so overwhelming? All the dreams dreamed and joys expected and embraces exchanged, all of it swirling and merging and growing and changing. A kiss. Memories of that kiss, an embrace, a furtive glance and two hearts beating together, sundered but together and lost. Is there a word for it? Would I want to hear it? I just don't know any more. |