Emotionally Drained.
Feb. 15th, 2005 11:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swestrupEver since meeting Deniz' mother and brother yesterday, I've been feeling emotionally drained -- all cried out. I find that I can actually write a bit about Deniz now, because the pain has receded to a deep aching sadness, rather than the sharp bursts of sorrow I've been dealing with for the last several days. I've been feeling as if there was a raw bleeding wound in my psyche where the comforting warmth of her presense used to reside. Now its just an aching void.
There are so many things I wanted to talk to her about. We had made tentative plans to meet for lunch sometime soon so that I could show her the office where I work now, and introduce her to my new friends. I've been wanting to talk to her about the technical writing they've got me doing now, because we once talked about me trying to get a job doing that as a possible sideline while looking for real work. Now I've gotten the 'real work' and they've decided the best way for me to learn the ropes is to write manuals about the products. They've apparantly been very impressed with the result. I've had multiple compliments on my writing and layout skills.
I've always wanted to ask Deniz what happened at her New Years party two years ago that changed things between us. Before that party I never really knew her; she was always aloof and distant with me and she had never accepted one of my hugs. Sometime during the party all that changed, and I found myself snuggling with her under a blanket. Things changed rapidly between us from that point on as she very quickly moved from being a friend-of-a-friend to an acquaintence to being one of the scant handful of people that I consider a true friend. Now I suppose I'll never know what changed between us, but I'm glad it did.
She was always a comforting presense and a warm embrace from that point on. I know that Nancy will probably have nightmares about the couch on which Deniz died for some time to come. I'm glad I was spared that horror. My last memories of that couch are the New Years Eve party 6 weeks ago when Deniz, me, my wife and one or two other friends were all piled together on it under a comforter, in an arrangement that was somewhere between a group hug and a telephone-booth stuffing contest.
Its strange to think that I only really knew her for two years, and yet she had such a huge impact on my life. She was always so warm and loving and so vibrantly alive that its difficult to believe she's gone. Although I knew I loved her, I never really realized just how deep that went or how important she was to me. I must admit its made me somewhat fearful as a result. While she was a major presense in my life, I have friends that I've known much longer and that I've cared for much deeper. If I'm having such trouble coping with the her loss, how would I ever manage if I lost one of the others? (So please, please be careful, folks.)
I can begin to understand how some people can become afraid of loving another, because it can make you so terribly, terribly vulnerable. Still, if I had it to do again, I would take those two years of her friendship even if I knew how it would end. Although I'm hurting now, I am so much richer for having known her than I could ever have been without.
Finally, it may be selfish, but I'm glad I told her that I loved her while she was still alive. Its something that I decided to start doing when I turned 40; making sure that people knew how much I cared for them. At the time I was thinking more of my own mortality than theirs, but I'm glad I made the effort nonetheless. At least its one thing I did share before she left us. There are just so many other things I had looked forward to sharing with her over the years to come. Years that have been stolen from us -- from all of us.
There are so many things I wanted to talk to her about. We had made tentative plans to meet for lunch sometime soon so that I could show her the office where I work now, and introduce her to my new friends. I've been wanting to talk to her about the technical writing they've got me doing now, because we once talked about me trying to get a job doing that as a possible sideline while looking for real work. Now I've gotten the 'real work' and they've decided the best way for me to learn the ropes is to write manuals about the products. They've apparantly been very impressed with the result. I've had multiple compliments on my writing and layout skills.
I've always wanted to ask Deniz what happened at her New Years party two years ago that changed things between us. Before that party I never really knew her; she was always aloof and distant with me and she had never accepted one of my hugs. Sometime during the party all that changed, and I found myself snuggling with her under a blanket. Things changed rapidly between us from that point on as she very quickly moved from being a friend-of-a-friend to an acquaintence to being one of the scant handful of people that I consider a true friend. Now I suppose I'll never know what changed between us, but I'm glad it did.
She was always a comforting presense and a warm embrace from that point on. I know that Nancy will probably have nightmares about the couch on which Deniz died for some time to come. I'm glad I was spared that horror. My last memories of that couch are the New Years Eve party 6 weeks ago when Deniz, me, my wife and one or two other friends were all piled together on it under a comforter, in an arrangement that was somewhere between a group hug and a telephone-booth stuffing contest.
Its strange to think that I only really knew her for two years, and yet she had such a huge impact on my life. She was always so warm and loving and so vibrantly alive that its difficult to believe she's gone. Although I knew I loved her, I never really realized just how deep that went or how important she was to me. I must admit its made me somewhat fearful as a result. While she was a major presense in my life, I have friends that I've known much longer and that I've cared for much deeper. If I'm having such trouble coping with the her loss, how would I ever manage if I lost one of the others? (So please, please be careful, folks.)
I can begin to understand how some people can become afraid of loving another, because it can make you so terribly, terribly vulnerable. Still, if I had it to do again, I would take those two years of her friendship even if I knew how it would end. Although I'm hurting now, I am so much richer for having known her than I could ever have been without.
Finally, it may be selfish, but I'm glad I told her that I loved her while she was still alive. Its something that I decided to start doing when I turned 40; making sure that people knew how much I cared for them. At the time I was thinking more of my own mortality than theirs, but I'm glad I made the effort nonetheless. At least its one thing I did share before she left us. There are just so many other things I had looked forward to sharing with her over the years to come. Years that have been stolen from us -- from all of us.
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Date: 2005-02-15 09:28 pm (UTC)