(The section below the cut I originally posted in an entry on 2005-08-11)

the 2005 entry )

And now he's gone. Oh Chris, if there is "something else", I hope you have it - the contentment you never found, at least.

And I can't believe it. The last three times I saw him, my only comment was "I have nothing else to say". Because I didn't know how to get past the terrible things we'd screamed at each other that final night when he moved out. The terrible things you remember - insults which are true, and so hurt all the more.

But the beautiful things that matter so much more - the bonding over books, and backgammon, and booze. The fact that he was the only person with whom I'd ever been able to share a kitchen, and the wonderful food we cooked and shared with everyone. The blue velvet and blue haired Hallowe'en, yes, even the walk that night from the Fox to Jeff's place, however many miles it was. Because we'd be sitting there talking all night, and suddenly get up and head for the beach to watch the sun come up. Because we cried together, and on each other's shoulder so many times. Because he offered to marry me if I needed that to stay in the UK when I wanted to get divorced and didn't know what would happen. The dragon's egg I bought him at Whitby, with the hope that he could crack the shell and have a better life. The music - ah, the music we shared. The smile that was always there when he picked me up from the train.

I still love you, Brookfield. I did finally figure out that I couldn't fix you, but I pray you're no longer broken.


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