I Reflect On Love Lost
I loved a man for 9 years. I believed he loved me, too. He said he did not want to marry, never, not me or anyone. I believed him because I was in a similar state of mind. (For the details on why I have never married please read my story under: I Wan To Know What's Behind My Family's Lies and Secrets) We had, I believed, a wonderful, happy romantic relationship.
He smoked a pack a day of Marlboro Lights. In our 9th year together, he was diagnosed with inoperable advanced lung cancer. He died after 11 months of fighting it. His last words to me were, "I love you. We didn't deserve this. I love you." When I came back to check on him the next day, he didn't answer my knock on his apartment door.
After frantically trying to find out if he had died, and begging the police to go into his apartment (they refused), I found out the truth.
The big clue which I had foolishly ignored was that he had never given me a key to his apartment.
After many frantic phone calls, I found out he had indeed died. But not in his apartment. After I'd seen him the day before, he'd gone off with the woman he'd been seeing behind my back and married her in the nearby resort town where he and I had gone for a romantic weekend...and he'd married her on my birthday. Then he died.
She was now the respectable widow, I was now the "back street girl" so she excluded me from his funeral.
And I found out more, all within minutes of hearing the news that he'd died. He had a bunch of other girlfriends. He had done a pretty good job of lying to me and telling me I was the only one. He even had several phone numbers and more than one address. He'd been seeing the woman he'd married for most of the time he was seeing me but she was married for most of that time so they were sneaking around. Then her husband came home early one day and found them in bed...and the husband divorced her. That was right after he became ill.
I cried for months and couldn't even go to work for quite a while. And I admit I still feel like a fool. He must have thought I was really dumb...and I was. I became sad and cynical in a way I have found I cannot recover from; it changed me. That was back in the 90s and I ended all attempts to have a love life. It even impacted my friendships since my ability to trust people was shattered.
The worst part of this pathetic story is that I really did love him, we really did have some wonderful times together, and sometimes I still miss him. I still visit his grave every year or two. The last time was two years ago. I put up a sign on his grave that read:
WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST QUIT SMOKING?
He smoked a pack a day of Marlboro Lights. In our 9th year together, he was diagnosed with inoperable advanced lung cancer. He died after 11 months of fighting it. His last words to me were, "I love you. We didn't deserve this. I love you." When I came back to check on him the next day, he didn't answer my knock on his apartment door.
After frantically trying to find out if he had died, and begging the police to go into his apartment (they refused), I found out the truth.
The big clue which I had foolishly ignored was that he had never given me a key to his apartment.
After many frantic phone calls, I found out he had indeed died. But not in his apartment. After I'd seen him the day before, he'd gone off with the woman he'd been seeing behind my back and married her in the nearby resort town where he and I had gone for a romantic weekend...and he'd married her on my birthday. Then he died.
She was now the respectable widow, I was now the "back street girl" so she excluded me from his funeral.
And I found out more, all within minutes of hearing the news that he'd died. He had a bunch of other girlfriends. He had done a pretty good job of lying to me and telling me I was the only one. He even had several phone numbers and more than one address. He'd been seeing the woman he'd married for most of the time he was seeing me but she was married for most of that time so they were sneaking around. Then her husband came home early one day and found them in bed...and the husband divorced her. That was right after he became ill.
I cried for months and couldn't even go to work for quite a while. And I admit I still feel like a fool. He must have thought I was really dumb...and I was. I became sad and cynical in a way I have found I cannot recover from; it changed me. That was back in the 90s and I ended all attempts to have a love life. It even impacted my friendships since my ability to trust people was shattered.
The worst part of this pathetic story is that I really did love him, we really did have some wonderful times together, and sometimes I still miss him. I still visit his grave every year or two. The last time was two years ago. I put up a sign on his grave that read:
WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST QUIT SMOKING?
70-79, F
