Dear you,
You called me on a night when I was actually in bed by 10:00 pm. If I had known you needed me, I would have been there for you. I'm sorry. When I got into my car this morning, I listened to your voicemail and truly heard in your voice the conflicts that were on your mind.
You wanted to know how you've helped me. In order to answer this, I have to go to my message archive and read through the dozens of messages from you. We first started to talk when I was living in Tampa. It was a temporary place for me, it was never home. I was still in the initial phases of my grief over Adam's death. I was trying to figure how to rebuild my life. Here's what you said to me then:
"I strongly believe that everything that happens does so for reasons and that bad things make a path and teach us new things we need or someone else needs. And we never understand it all, but in the end it is there."
You were right. I had heard similar sentiments from others but they said it when I wasn't ready to listen. You had damn good timing. I was searching for a way to really start to deal with my feelings and you gave it to me in a way and at a time when it was actually useful. Further, the idea that this was a lesson in life, something to prepare me for my future was an idea that I had toyed with but hadn't really accepted.
Over the next few years, we msg'd briefly here and there about mostly inconsequential things. Over time, I had dealt with various parts of the fallout from Adam's suicide. I was able to let go of some things, but some issues still remained, some big guilt issues. Then, out of the blue you sent me a message that said:
"I've been meaning to tell you something for a while. It has to do with realizing there are certain people that no matter what, we can't change their trajectory, no matter what we do or who we are. And I learned recently how hard that is to accept. This leads to something I cannot put into words, but you'll find the words. It is better that you do. Much love."
It took those words plus the following, to finally make me not feel like his suicide was my fault:
"Those that hurt without escape, they seek above all else, often subconsciously, to cause those who love them to feel some essence of their pain. This is the validation.
Certain people, I have come to have to accept, will not allow their pain to alleviate in this lifetime. It does not matter what you do or what happens. They will not allow it to alleviate. It has become too comfortable. And we both know people like this. To drive us to believe we failed, that is how they pass it on. We did not fail. We survived and did not succumb. The rules are what we call them."
That's how you helped me darlin'. I'll always be grateful for it too. You helped me to get past some seriously big emotional stumbling blocks.
Further, you're still helping me and you know it.
And lastly, I'll leave you with your own words as comfort, "You taught me much about limitations with your words. We all find something in the air between us. It is why we are here."
Love,
Jen