Being estranged from the Narcissist in my life has brought me peace, so finding they might have died has been unexpected, and shown me something new. Her house is up for sale, apparently neglected and reduced, it would seem probably that she has died. I had hoped that I had done all my grieving already but this hit me all anew and unexpectedly.
That I still had love where I didn't expect it to have survived surprised me. It is possible it would seem - to still love someone you can't be in an active relationship with.
The distance maintained - for both our sakes - the anger - the problems - none of this precluded that last wisp of emotion that was still - in-spite of ever thing - love.
I had thought that when she died, I would walk through my childhood home Pick up and put down the things that she had cherished and perhaps have one to take away.
I thought that there would possibly be a chance to take a few photographs.
But the house is empty and for sale, the person is gone, the childhood photographs are elsewhere - perhaps a relative has them , perhaps they are long ago thrown into a skip.
There was no "moment."
There was no option to rush to a bedside in the hope of a last conversation - one that I know could only happen if an ending was coming. (We could not have talked if there was a possibility of us having to continue on into a future together.)
But in a singular moment in time, we might have had the chance to voice love for each other without the burden of a future with each other.
Soppy isn't it
and do you know what else it is ?
It is a lie.
It's is a romantic lie I have told myself.
Here I am, the rejected child still thinking that because I could love her through all this, that she may have loved me - and that it was just a..what / accident of fate she couldnt say so?
If she ever loved me loved me she didn't want me to know she did, she certainly never told me she did. Either she never lied - and never loved me, or she lied all the time, to deliberately hurt me, either way I am as rejected as she knew how to manage. Its an interesting legacy to leave your child and oddly I find its one I can reject.
Whatever she was has gone now - and what she has tried to pass to me - I refuse to carry down through history, I can choose that. Not all "Gifts" have to be accepted after all.
Sure I will carry the tangle of genes onward - the threads that my ancestors have spun forwards for me, but her contribution is merely another weft , tiny in the scale of things and I have already remade most of the fabric round the holes she left - patched in new - repaired and remade.
can do that because of who I am. Living with my past made me a maker, a problem solver - the creative and enterprising person I am - and I will make good of what I am given and new threads will spool on from this.
History is written not just by the victors, but the survivors too.