Finding Forty: Hope for the Hopeless

The sadness is seeping in, ever so slightly, ever so slowly.   Ironically, it is in some of my most happy moments that I suddenly become acutely aware of a melancholy lurking deep and dark within me.

Could it be guilt?   I have definitely moved forward in many ways.  Am I feeling guilty for moving on? Or do I just miss the friendship I shared with A?

The other day, he sent me a text saying he needed to talk to me.   He seemed adamant that we talk in person and wouldn't elude to what the topic was.   Immediately, my stomach lurched and churned.   I'm divorced now, free, so to speak, and I still felt like I'd done something wrong.   Or was it something else?

Did he want to tell me about a new girlfriend?   Had he had a one night stand on his business trip last week?  Did he discover something about me and my new relationship that he needed answers about?  Even though I have no claim to him now and I moved on, those thoughts still haunt me at times.  The possibilities were endless and it bugged me.

All night I tossed and turned.   Finally, at 2:48 a.m. I typed an email telling him the ambiguity of his comment was distressing to me.   I needed to know what he wanted to talk about.

The morning dawned and we exchanged a few more texts about the boys.   He said nothing of the email.   I asked him to lunch to see if he wanted to talk then.   He told me he'd already made lunch plans with co workers.   He then texted that he didn't think we needed to talk anymore.

What?  

At this point, I was frustrated.  It was all sort of starting to feel passive aggressive and manipulative.  

Then I got an email, a response to the one I'd sent in the wee hours of the night.

Basically, he was having a hard time with something about me, about us and he hasn't yet figured out the nature of our relationship or what he even wants it to be, other than co-parents.

My heart broke a bit more as I read those words.   How selfish of me, I know.   I ripped his out and moved right on and I have the nerve to be upset because he's not ready to be my friend.

Thing is, I can't fathom him not being in my life.   For 24 years this man has been there, at least in some ways, and I don't want to lose that.

I know he needs time.  We all do.

And so, the sadness seeps in as the friendship fades.

Is there hope for the hopeless?