Which Stage is This?

If you will be kind enough to continue to read my blog I will promise you that it will not always be as dark and sad as it may be tonight. But I will also promise you that I will write honestly from my heart.
I don’t know why, given the fact that– as far as I can tell my mind seems to work in a somewhat different way from what I have been described as normal, that I should have figured that my grief in the loss of my long-time absent friend Alex Johns should follow any patterns established and accepted as normal.
As I have said, the only person I know who knew Alex is his many years friend Scott. But Scott is an artist as well. And is as wildly eccentric as a man might be. There’s nothing wrong with this and Scott’s been this way since the day I met him. He’s also very… energetic. And getting any information from him is next to impossible. It’s as if one is expecting or wanting to see a DaVinci and being presented a Dali. And heaven knows there’s nothing wrong with a Dali.
But I need to know what Alex’s life has been like since we lost touch. We didn’t really lose touch. I went away. I went away because I couldn’t stop trying to make him want me in a way that he simply couldn’t or wouldn’t.  I had not been around Alex for quite a while when I met and fell in love with Adam.  Three years ago, when Adam and I were about to get married, I saw Alex again. He told me that he had separated from the boyfriend that he had been with for a lot of the time since we had been running buddies. He wished me well in my marriage. I invited him to come to the wedding. But he didn’t come.
Now I certainly am happy to be married to Adam. He is far and away the best man for me that I have ever met. The feelings I’m processing have most (I think) to do with the fact that Alex had (for about six years) a profound effect on my life. I surrendered to him every bit of my personal power. I embarrassed myself chasing after him over and over and over. Also, beyond and outside of all this, we were friends. Good friends. Close friends. In many ways I think I idolized Alex. I wanted to be like him; successful, wealthy, beautiful and confident. I used Alex to feel badly about myself in just about every way one can. And still he was kind to me. Still we traveled together and laughed. We understood each other.
Now, I’m left without something I desperately need. I need to sit down and ask a hundred questions of someone who can answer them for me. About what the last six years were like for Alex. And what the last six months were like. Why didn’t he have someone call me and let me know how sick he was? He must have thought of me at least once as he lay there dying! Was he afraid that I’d return to my old habits of trying to make him love me? Surely not. He knew about Adam. Was he embarrassed? Was he angry?   Was it simply that he had a lot to think about and I wasn’t that important to him anymore? Why didn’t someone who knew me and knew how much Alex had meant to me get in touch with me so that I could have had the opportunity to say goodbye? Why didn’t someone tell me about the funeral?
So I’m left alone with my questions. And my deep grief.
The first day I cried. Through my intense shock, I cried.
Yesterday, I was angry. Angry he died. Angry at him for not sending for me. Angry at Scott for not contacting me. Angry at the disease.
Today… today, I just feel beat up. Defeated.  Numb (almost).  Perhaps his death will be the last way in which I will not get what I want.  Who knows?
Of all the gifts Alex gave me, perhaps the last and greatest will be acceptance.

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