Sometimes, as I write this, I wonder if I'm getting the dates right about some of the stuff. I can't clearly remember everything now, but I do think I have the dates mostly right. Believe it or not, I have a number of years that are so incredibly alike that I have some trouble placing them in the correct chronological order. The last moment for me and Silvia, the final shot, the last hurrah, was when I visited her for the last time in early 2011. In fact, and for reasons I can no longer recall, I ended up staying with her for two or three weeks. My love for Silvia was at its zenith - of a sorts, but more on that in the future - and I asked her to marry me all the time. Not very long before we broke up for the last time, she said that she'd agree to marry me after we'd spent one year together - something that had never happened before - and, though I saw that as a sign of hope... I really shouldn't have. It was never meant to be.
I remember well two things that happened during those final times : once, we were on a bus coming home from somewhere, and somehow, somehow, I managed to misplace (read : lose) her pair of gloves. I knew the pain and misery that was headed my way as soon as she knew I'd messed up - yet again, in her eyes. And man, was I ever chastised for it. Even though I tried to defuse it, even though I offered up my heart on a platter to her, I was still chastised. And don't get me wrong, though we loved each other, very often we just didn't like each other very much. We couldn't stand being together. I don't know quite what it was that would happen between us, but the nearness that brought us close, also could drive us apart. And whenever that happened there was no option but to get away.
The other moment I remember clearly from that time was the very last day we spent together : I had my flight back home on that very day, and I went with her down to where she worked. We kissed one very last painful kiss goodbye - we were both of us sure that that was it for us - and after I left her, I made my way to the airport. I was coming home. Or so I thought.
What happened was that there was some strike going on at the moment, and my flight got delayed a couple of time, so I ended up staying in a hotel in Geneva for a few days more. I never told Silvia this - it would've broken us even more had we have to spend more time together. I made sure to stay away from any places where our paths would cross for the duration of my stay. Though we both knew that it was curtains for us, we didn't really make it official. No, that happened a little bit after I got back. It was probably the hardest thing I've ever done, writing that e-mail to her. I loved her, I wanted her, I desired her, I longed for her... but after almost five years later I just couldn't do it anymore. None of us could.
No comments:
Post a Comment