Perfect,
clement weather. A whiff of late summer in early October (day-time high of
+23C, not much short of October heat record for Warsaw of +24.5C, set on 5
October 1983). Spent most of the day outdoors, lazily or actively, yet in the
great companion. Reflective mood has kept me company while I was basking in the
autumn sun anyway…
Today is
the sixth anniversary of my mother’s best friend’s death. 4 October in 2009
also fell on Sunday. She passed away late in the evening, thus losing a battle
against cancer she had fought for months ahead of the sad day. Back in the
early years of blogging I followed the principle to keep the private stuff away
from the PES. I do not regret abiding by the self-imposed rules at that time,
yet regret not putting in words my feelings at that time and confining only to succinct coverage of the funeral. Our families used to be friends over the
period of my childhood and teenage years. Ciocia Magda used to be one of my nearest
and dearest, closer and more trusted than most relatives. Piece of life,
hundreds of memories turned into ashes, yet alive as reminiscences of her
survivors.
Today also
falls the third anniversary of most crucial conversations I had with three
people which three days later were compiled into the timeless Guardian Angel conversation, the post on PES I most frequently revert to. With hindsight, as
three years passed by, I am immensely grateful to myself for picking up courage
to face up to all the bitter feelings overwhelming me at that moment. Freeing
the thoughts, putting them into order, confronting them with I had been told by
wiser fellows sobering me up have helped reach the turning point in breaking
free from that hapless affection.
Getting
over that miserable infatuation took me good six months. For the last year of
working at the Employer’s, my professional relationship with Her was correct.
While seeing Her for the last time on 31 July 2014, on my last day of work, I
did not resent Her for what we had been through. Yet She was the only person
deliberately I cut off. I have met or spoken to all my immediate co-workers;
all, except Her. Oddly enough though before I had been in much closer
relationships with girls / women than in that dead-end something I would not
call a relationship, I still feel She was a piece of my life. She has not left
a wound, yet a scar remains.
The
Soulmate (a work-mate at the Employer’s today a friend) while we met last month
told me She had probably broken up with that guy. “A pity, She will turn 32
soon, She will find it only harder to find a decent boyfriend, this is not the
state of affairs I would wish on Her”, I replied. I sincerely wish Her all the
best, yet I felt a twitch of twofold nature: I felt this could be chance to
start over and to be honest with you, I smirked at thought She got the
well-deserved punishment (for what?). I was curious whether Soulmate mentioned
this to chin me up (I am not the only one who has it uphill with the opposite
sex) or to gently hint starting over. Two weeks later I outspokenly told the
Soulmate I actually had not been indifferent to the news she had passed to me,
yet…
Let’s face the truth. Lighting never strikes in the same place twice, as
the saying goes. You could argue, we are both three years older, more mature,
wiser, our lives have moved on, we have experienced more. We are both three
years older, but She still is four years older than me. We have no common
source of income, I earn more than twice as much as in 2012 and for some reason
She and her ex-boyfriend are no longer together – if anyone thinks these
developments make a fundamental difference – shame on you! We could forget who
hurt who in the past and discover each other as if we just met, but we would
not erase what set us apart from each other. I have my pride. Being second-best
does not make sense!
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