(no subject)
Something I've been meaning to talk about for a while...
So like 3 weeks ago I discovered that my first boyfriend, Gene, died. This came as a bit of a shock to the system, however, my thoughts have progressed past just the fact that he was only 26 when he died. But before I continue with where I am now, here is the progression:
Backstory: For the last 12 years I've held one regret. Really, it's the only regret I've ever had in my whole life. You see, when I was 16, gene and I were engaged. Yes, we were young and naive, but we were as serious as two teenagers could be about such things. My dad didn't like Gene, so he sent me away for a summer to forget about him. It worked. I cheated on gene and couldn't deal with the guilt, so I broke up with him. It's not just the cheating that I've regretted all these years, but just being so awful to him in general. He was never anything less than wonderful to me and I was unforgivably stupid. During these last 12 years, I've been looking for him on and off, seeking an opportunity to make amends or, at least, clear my conscience. I even wrote a letter to a possible address I was able to uncover, but it was returned to me with no forwarding address.
Okay, so then I get smacked in the face with the reality. My window of opportunity has closed. Gene is dead. There is no way for me to make things right/better/easier for me (whatever). And it takes me a couple of weeks to sort that out with myself. I mean seriously, a quest that has taken me almost half my life has ended in probably the most unexpected way and without any resolution.
Next my thoughts turned to contacting his mother. Now I know how that sounds, but I wanted her to know that she had my sympathy and that her son was not forgotten. I was able to dig up a phone number via internet white pages, but the number is never answered. I gave up calling her a week or so ago.
Next on the list was his fiancee. His obituary listed a fiancee as one of his survivors and this, of course, made me curious. Who was/is she? Did she deserve him? Did she make him happy or was he settling because there wasn't enough options? Etc... The most ridiculous part of all of this speculation was that I started to hypothesize comparisons between myself and this unknown almost-widow.
Stephen was kind enough to take me to the cemetery where Gene was buried and it was there that I finally started to come to grips with everything and start letting that old wound heal. I found his plot in a far corner of the lawn and what really struck me as I gazed down at the evenly trimmed grass covering his grave was that he didn't have a proper headstone. In fact, all he has is a generic metal nameplate placed by the mortuary. It shocked and horrified me. This boy that I once knew... if the man he became had any resemblance whatsoever to his former self, he deserved far better than that small dented plate. I sat for awhile there and talked to myself, or him, or nothing at all. I sobbed and laughed and released all the emotion that had built up since the day I found out Gene's terminal condition. I placed a pretty stone next to the plate and when I had dried up enough, I joined Stephen again and we left.
Shock and horror turned to anger. Anger to rage. Rage to sadness. Sadness to acceptance.
Gene's parents never had much money. They're Mormons and have been taken care of by the church for many years. I imagine that they simply couldn't afford a granite edifice to place in his honor. So it goes.
I have finally started to forgive myself and end the regret. I'm moving forward again. I hope there are many others who remember Gene as fondly as I do. It is unfortunate that he died so young and that I never apologized to him face to face, but I have finally been able to make some peace with myself.
Rest peacefully, Gene.
So like 3 weeks ago I discovered that my first boyfriend, Gene, died. This came as a bit of a shock to the system, however, my thoughts have progressed past just the fact that he was only 26 when he died. But before I continue with where I am now, here is the progression:
Backstory: For the last 12 years I've held one regret. Really, it's the only regret I've ever had in my whole life. You see, when I was 16, gene and I were engaged. Yes, we were young and naive, but we were as serious as two teenagers could be about such things. My dad didn't like Gene, so he sent me away for a summer to forget about him. It worked. I cheated on gene and couldn't deal with the guilt, so I broke up with him. It's not just the cheating that I've regretted all these years, but just being so awful to him in general. He was never anything less than wonderful to me and I was unforgivably stupid. During these last 12 years, I've been looking for him on and off, seeking an opportunity to make amends or, at least, clear my conscience. I even wrote a letter to a possible address I was able to uncover, but it was returned to me with no forwarding address.
Okay, so then I get smacked in the face with the reality. My window of opportunity has closed. Gene is dead. There is no way for me to make things right/better/easier for me (whatever). And it takes me a couple of weeks to sort that out with myself. I mean seriously, a quest that has taken me almost half my life has ended in probably the most unexpected way and without any resolution.
Next my thoughts turned to contacting his mother. Now I know how that sounds, but I wanted her to know that she had my sympathy and that her son was not forgotten. I was able to dig up a phone number via internet white pages, but the number is never answered. I gave up calling her a week or so ago.
Next on the list was his fiancee. His obituary listed a fiancee as one of his survivors and this, of course, made me curious. Who was/is she? Did she deserve him? Did she make him happy or was he settling because there wasn't enough options? Etc... The most ridiculous part of all of this speculation was that I started to hypothesize comparisons between myself and this unknown almost-widow.
Stephen was kind enough to take me to the cemetery where Gene was buried and it was there that I finally started to come to grips with everything and start letting that old wound heal. I found his plot in a far corner of the lawn and what really struck me as I gazed down at the evenly trimmed grass covering his grave was that he didn't have a proper headstone. In fact, all he has is a generic metal nameplate placed by the mortuary. It shocked and horrified me. This boy that I once knew... if the man he became had any resemblance whatsoever to his former self, he deserved far better than that small dented plate. I sat for awhile there and talked to myself, or him, or nothing at all. I sobbed and laughed and released all the emotion that had built up since the day I found out Gene's terminal condition. I placed a pretty stone next to the plate and when I had dried up enough, I joined Stephen again and we left.
Shock and horror turned to anger. Anger to rage. Rage to sadness. Sadness to acceptance.
Gene's parents never had much money. They're Mormons and have been taken care of by the church for many years. I imagine that they simply couldn't afford a granite edifice to place in his honor. So it goes.
I have finally started to forgive myself and end the regret. I'm moving forward again. I hope there are many others who remember Gene as fondly as I do. It is unfortunate that he died so young and that I never apologized to him face to face, but I have finally been able to make some peace with myself.
Rest peacefully, Gene.