Letting Go Of Brent And Other Christmas Miracles : Chapter 6.2

 

I sat down on the window seat with a fresh mug of tea in hand, watching as my new community mingled on the street below. The week had flown by. This was the first time since I found Lester that I felt relaxed. At ease. I missed my best guy terribly but Cassandra was right, there was something about this apartment that felt like it fit. Like it was meant for me.

For a few brief minutes it was good to be here.

If this was one of the romance novels I usually enjoy on a night like tonight this would probably be time for the grand gesture.

The moment the love interest realized what he was about to lose, quit acting like a douche and showed up late in the third act or the moment for the meet cute with the exact man the lonely yet lovable protagonist was hoping her lost crush was going to be (whereas the crush turns out to be lacking in the very qualities the main character needs in a partner).

I looked at the clock. Six pm on New Year’s Eve. “It’s not going to happen Renee.” I whispered to myself. “Not for you. Not tonight.” I looked around the room. “What are you going to do about it?” My eyes stopped at a box topped with a large unopened bag of cat food. “I’m not going to sit around here feeling sorry for myself.” I said setting my mug down next to the window.

The cold air hit hard as the door closed behind me. “I’ll warm up if I keep moving. Keep moving.” I whispered to myself. With the college being closed for the semester, students and a large portion of the staff having left for the holidays, I was able to navigate both pedestrian and foot traffic fairly easily. Shelter hours showed they closed at six pm. but the Open sign was still up and the lights were on. I decided to take a chance and try the door letting myself in.

Moments later, a young woman emerged from the back of the building, drying her hands on a towel as she walked. “We’re closed for the holiday. Is this an emergency?” She called.

“No. Actually I wanted to know if you accepted donations.”

“We do. We accept food and supplies for both cats and dogs. Money is fine too. Cash or card only.”

“I have a box here. The food hasn’t been opened. I wasn’t sure what you could use and what you couldn’t so I just brought everything.” I spotted Lester’s favorite food dish in the box, the one with his name and an illustration of a cartoon bird in the bottom. I quickly lifted it out of the box. “Everything except this bowl.”

The young woman looked at me.

“That wasn’t supposed to be in the box. Sorry.”

Her eyes studied mine for a few beats before she returned to exploring the contents of the box. “How long ago did you lose him?” She asked.

“What?”

“Your cat...when did he die?”

My voice caught as I said, “A week ago.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“You sure you don’t want to keep some of this?” She asked. When I didn’t answer right away she looked up. “For your next cat?”

“Lester was my grandmother’s cat when she took me in. After she died he moved in with me. He’s never not been there.”

“I get it.” After finishing pulling the items from the box she picked up a pen and started scribbling. “If you change your mind.”

I nodded.

“We also have fostering programs if you aren’t ready to make a lifetime commitment or if you ever need a kitty fix we can always use an extra pair of hands around this place.” She extended a hand. “I’m Terri by the way.”

“Renee.”

“Nice to meet you Renee. So what was Lester like?”

“He was a short haired domestic black cat. He was a cranky old man.” I found myself smiling a little with the memory.

“He didn’t like people?”

“Only if they had food. He would share the bed with me. He would let me help him down from high places when it became too painful for him to jump down on his own. He was a good companion.”

“I’ve pulled out what can be sanitized, we can accept the unopened food. Thank you for thinking of us.” Terri said handing back the box.

“You’re welcome. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

I turned to leave, before I walked through the door I heard something. I turned around.

“Because you had a cat like Lester, can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure.”

“We have this female cat, I’m kinda worried about her.” Terri hesitated. “It would be easier just to show you.”

Raising my head from beneath a sea of bubbles I ran my hand down my face and opened my mouth to get a breath of air. As my eyes focused they found a pair of green eyes peering at me from behind the toilet. They belonged to an adult female. A gray and white short haired domestic. She had big eyes and round cheeks. One of the sweetest faces I could imagine and she was slowly dying. When I heard her story, I knew I had to bring her home.

Rory had been dropped off by local law enforcement. The residents had been arrested and the children in the home sent to live with grandparents in another state. The grandmother was highly allergic to cats. Rory was nervous. Especially frightened by loud noises. This healthy well cared for spayed cat was relaxing some but she still drank little and did not seem to be eating. The vet told Terri unless something changed Rory probably wouldn’t make it much longer.

Terri was hoping that if someone fostered her in a quiet environment she might come around. My experience caring for a senior cat at the end of his life and being single with no children made me a very good candidate. As much as I’d been hurting lately, I still found myself wanting to help.

Rory’s eyes grew big. I turned my gaze away from hers and pretended she wasn’t there.

“I used to have a cat that lived with me. His name was Lester.” I said quietly. “We were together for his entire life. He was well cared for, happy, and safe.” I peered over the edge of the tub. She was still on alert. I finished my bath and left her alone to rest. Things went on like that for the rest of the evening. I woke just before midnight to find the bowl of food sitting near a towel covered cushion on the window seat still untouched. I had hung my heaviest blankets over the windows in an attempt to diffuse any sounds from fireworks or gun fire.

Turning on a lamp I found her watching me from underneath the coffee table. Without looking at her I continued. “We have a lot in common you know. We both are suffering...from broken hearts.” I looked in her direction, she was still there. “You a bit more I think. Guess what? We don’t have to suffer. We can get through this together. I hate to ask something of you since we just met a few hours ago but if I keep taking care of you will you please take care of me? Keep me company so I’m not sad?” I question whether this is a good choice or not for a moment. I think about what is it we need when we feel rejected or alone. The answer came quickly we need to feel loved but sometimes a person also needs to feel needed. She had a little boy who needed her. Rory was not only taken from her home but from the child she loved and cared for. Terri said Rory was about six. If the boy was very young Rory might feel lost like a mother does when her child is no longer there. It was a long shot. If I stressed my need for care and said a little prayer maybe a Christmas miracle would come to me.

I’d take it.

I don’t care if it’s a week late.

“The most important thing I need you to do kitty is to eat something.” I said, reaching out for the top of the coffee table and a paper plate where the remnants of my dinner was sitting, I laid a bit of chicken on the floor near her before closing my eyes.

When I woke the next morning she was curled up on the window seat sleeping. Food was missing from my abandoned plate. A small portion of kibble was no longer in her bowl and the water was gone. A belated Christmas miracle had arrived. Rory had eaten, as long she kept eating there was hope. As long as there was hope, well, that’s all that really mattered.

“Happy New Year Brent." I whispered. "I wish you health and happiness in the coming months.” 

  My love interest had not shown in the eleventh hour yet I was not alone. There was room for hope, time for growth, healing and to find a kitty her forever home.

The End and The Beginning.

Letting Go Of Brent And Other Christmas Miracles: Chapter 6

 

When the world comes crashing down around you everything looks very dark. You aren't sure where to turn and thoughts that run through your mind are things like “I don't know what to do” and “Where do I go from here?” That's what happened to me. I found myself awake in the middle of the night steeped in them. If I'm not directing, if I'm not telling stories, then who am I? Am I still a storyteller when nobody sees the product of my labor? Eventually I realized that question was too much like if a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear did it actually fall?

When we create something, when we open up our minds, our hearts and show others pieces of our souls and no one stops to look at the result does it have any value at all? Once upon a time I wouldn’t have thought twice before saying “yes,” for several days last week I wasn’t so sure.

This morning I was sitting at my favorite table in the very back of the Starbucks down the street from my house when a former classmate wandered up behind me and started reading over my shoulder while I was working on chapter five. He said all that dark night of the soul stuff really drew him in. I explained this was a private project and not intended for public consumption, he countered with “Every good director knows every word they write is a potential film.” I smiled but refused to let him read the whole thing. I have to admit his enthusiasm gave me a little boost. He sat down and we talked for a bit, when James offered me a job making changes to your current project I was floored. I told him I’d think about it. I already know I'll turn it down. I have to trust myself, until I know I can do that I'm staying out of your professional circle.

It did make me think, what if this is all just a matter of perspective? What if an inability to let you just exist as you are without making some big deal about it is possible? If I'm going to keep creating, keep directing, odds are good we're going to cross paths some day. I don't want a crush to keep me from my work. My creativity. My purpose. My joy. It lead me to make a decision, tonight I’ll put one of your performances in the DVD player and watch it. If things go okay, in a day or two I'll watch another one.

I’ve known for a while now that my biggest mistake was convincing myself that a romance between the two of us was possible. It’s time to find a way to take apart the story I created. Any good director knows not every story makes it into production, this is just a matter of recognizing the story I wove in my heart is not going to be picked up. These things happen all the time.

Marley

***************************

My Dearest Brent,

They say if you love someone let them go. If they were yours they'll come back if they don't come back they never were yours to begin with. I’ve always hated that saying, it's so final. Losing Lester among all the changes led to a sad time, I fell back into old habits for a time. While lost in a sea of YouTube videos about manifesting what you want, attracting the person you want, and all of that business I ran across one about letting go in a healthier way. It said to let go with loving thoughts, gratitude for the good times, and compassion. I have to say the idea felt right, to let go with loving thoughts. I pictured you, mentally let go with loving thoughts, and I felt better. It wasn't so final, it wasn't so sad, and it was real.

Although taking this new direction didn't change everything completely overnight, today is a brand new day. And today, instead of choosing to be afraid of my feelings, I choose to acknowledge them. The good parts, the bad parts, the parts that need to change…all of it. Instead of choosing to not look in your direction, instead of hiding how I feel like some big dark secret, I choose to acknowledge that the feelings have been here for a long time and regardless of how one-sided they are they do exist.

I have decided to make a choice every day to take a moment and let go of you with loving thoughts.

The truth is for years I have looked at you through the eyes of that young woman I was on the the day we first met, focusing on the parts of you that attracted me then. I’m not sure I ever really knew you Brent at least not in the way someone who is in love with another person knows them.

I hope you have the happiest and most beautiful life.

I hope you live your life being the best version of yourself. I hope you find a love that is just a small percentage of the feelings I carried for you and I hope you feel worthy of it.

I’m still learning Brent. Right now I’m learning how to see hope.

I’ve learned hope is not something to be achieved, it’s not something to be acquired. 

The best way to have hope is to look at others and want good things for them. The best way to have hope is to look at yourself and want good health and happiness and to make beautiful things and to feel a sense of love and a feeling of home surrounding you everyday.

I’m learning that hope is something you have to cultivate from within. The difficult part being, sometimes you have to plant it and cultivate it and find a way to make it grow in darkness. Tomorrow and every morning that follows I’ll get up, I’ll walk through the darkness, I’ll check on my hope and see if it's growing. If it isn’t I’ll check to see if it needs water, I’ll set up a light. I will do whatever I need to in order to help it grow.

I won’t say goodbye, I will say until we meet again as the people we really are I wish you every possible happiness.

All my best Renee.

 

 

Christmas day came and went. I spent most of the time with friends coming home late in no hurry to return to an empty house. Upon returning, I spent much of the evening walking through rooms, taking stock of what had been packed for storage, what was staying, and what would still need to be packed up the next day. December 26th was on a Friday I would be clearing out on a Saturday leaving me close to a week to unpack and acclimate to my new home.

Andy, Cassandra's husband, stopped by early the next morning to see if he could help with anything. We took the remaining boxes marked for storage to the storage unit and secured it. Not knowing how long I was going to be living in the new apartment, I stopped by the office leaving a payment that would cover my rental fees until winter was over. I thanked Andy for his help with a cup of coffee and a piece of fresh coffee cake knowing this was his holiday break from the kids.

Cassandra arrived for her Mommy break at one-thirty with a take-out bag in hand, her excuse being she had a taste for something which wasn’t drenched in grease or sugar and there was no way her little darlings would appreciate her food choice. 

With all efficiency, the remaining pieces of my life were packed up by dinner time. It’s a strange feeling when everything you consider to be a representation of your life is packed up in boxes and your house stands virtually empty like a blank canvas waiting for the next resident to turn it into their version of home.

“You miss him.” Cassandra observed.

I look at her without responding.

“You’re looking for Lester.” She said.

“I am. I’ll probably be doing that for a while.”

“What are you going to do with these?” Cassandra asked, pointing to a box which consisted of Lester’s dishes and toys. An unopened bag of cat food lay across the top of it.

“I thought I’d take it to the shelter down the street from the new place and make a donation.”

She nodded without sharing her opinion.

This time.

Letting Go Of Brent And Other Christmas Miracles : Chapter 5

 

Somehow it all fell apart. As I mentioned earlier, my previous movie is not getting put out into the world. I plunged ahead and finished my current screenplay in a way nobody liked including me. Between the finished screen play and the news that my previous project was shelved I lost the backing on my current project propelling me into my own dark night of the soul.

It's funny how a really bad day can send everyone running to the hills. Nothing sends friends, loved ones, and acquaintances packing like an emotional crisis. There’s content all over the Internet telling people to reach out when they are struggling, unaware that when a person is struggling reaching out for help feels a lot like moving a huge boulder. Which is probably why so many people don’t get the help they need. When a person does get someone who listens to them they generally turn away or find ways to be less available in the future.

Where was I, oh yes the dark night of the soul. A dark night of the soul is something which is an important part of any story. The main character is at their lowest point. The point when they’re laying on the ground and you don’t know if they have anything left in them. Can they get back up again and work past their obstacles? The viewer watches and waits to see whether or not all is lost.

A dark night of the soul is something a protagonist has to move through alone which is a good thing because I don't know of any way to be more alone than I am right now.

I woke up this morning and decided it was time for my dark night of the soul to be over.

Just because I feel alone at the moment doesn't mean Renee needs to be. If fighting for my fictional character is all I've got left then let's fight. Her dark night is going to have a much prettier dawn. Let's do this.

Marley J.

My Dear Lester,

I woke to find myself as the only one on the bed for the second morning in a row. Words cannot express how I miss you kitty. I keep looking for you hoping it was all a bad dream. I know it wasn't. You have been such a cornerstone of my life for so long. How do I embark on my greatest adventure so far without you? I keep wondering if there was more I could have done. If you would have lived longer if I had taken better care of you, played with you more often, dwelt on Brent less and focused on you more. I’m sorry I failed you kitty. I won't do it again.

Love Renee

Cassandra stood in the doorway just as I finished writing the last word. She held a mug in her hand. “Was that to Brent?” She asked. “The letter writing phase of letting go is supposed to be over.”

“No. I was thinking about Lester.”

Stepping into the room she held the mug out for me. “The vet said there was nothing he could do to help Lester. His little heart just quit working.”

Accepting the cup I said, “We should have had more time.”

“Lester was over 20 years old. The average lifespan of a house cat is 12 to 17 years. How much time did you think you could get?” She asked.

“More?”

Cassandra made a face. I sipped the coffee as she watched me. “What are you going to do today?” She asked.

“Lay back down.”

“Then?”

“I thought I'd walk through the house. Look at Lester's dishes. At his empty bed. Play with his toys.”

“Don't you have something else to do?”

“Like what?”

“Pack? You were moving.”

“I didn't get the apartment.”

“Because they wouldn't accept Lester.” Cassandra pointed out, “You can live there now.”

“I won't live any place where the owners don't like cats.” I said as I laid down pulling the blankets over my head.

“You're being impossible.” Cassandra called.

“You wanted me to speak up for myself. Be careful what you wish for.” I called out from underneath the blankets.

“You have thirty minutes to get out of bed.”

I sat up. “I'm a grown up you can't make me.” I said before retiring back to my cocoon. I heard Cassandra’s “You're right I can't” before I drifted into a nap. I woke to the sound of the Pink Panther theme song coming from my nightstand. Peering out I noticed my phone screen lighting up. It looked like Cassandra was still in the house and had found a new way to occupy her time. I rolled over, covered my head, and waited for the music to stop. I heard footsteps near my bed moments before...

“Renee's phone.” Cassandra purred. “No Renee is unavailable at the moment can I take a message?” The sound of Cassandra saying “yes” and “okay” grew softer, she appeared to be taking my phone out of hearing range. I folded the blankets down as I sat up in bed. By the time I located Cassandra and my phone all I could hear were the words “That's fabulous news she'll take it.” Cassandra paused for a few beats. “Yes I'm sure. Yes, emailing the lease would be perfectly fine. Renee can sign it when she gets home. She can drop off her deposit, first and last month’s rent when she picks up her keys? That sounds great! Thank you Katherine I hope you feel better soon. Merry Christmas.”

I crossed the room quietly, stopping just behind her and coughed. Cassandra jumped at the sound, “You're up,” she said.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“I got bored and changed your ringtone. I'm sorry.” She said attempting to change the subject.

“Not that.”

“The conversation? Grenden Realty called, the owners of the building changed their minds. They've had second thoughts, your cat is welcome there. The apartment is yours.”

“I told you I don't want it. If Lester is not going to be there I don't want it anymore.”

“That’s so childish.” She said. “Lester died. Freeing you to take this apartment. The owner said a cat in the apartment is okay also freeing you to take this apartment. It's a sign. For some unknown reason you're supposed to live in this apartment.”

“I don't believe in signs, not anymore anyway. You never have.” I pointed out raising a brow.

“That’s true.” Cassandra admitted. “If I did believe in signs this would be the one I would believe in.”

“I'm happy for you.” I said as I walked past her.

“You have a new job that starts in a little over a week, you need a place to live.” Cassandra said as she followed me into the kitchen.

“Not that one.” I said reaching into the cabinet for a clean mug.

“I give up.”

I put down the coffee carafe as I turned to look at her.

“Why do you do it?” She asked.

“Do what?”

“Insist on holding on to your pain.”

I looked at Cassandra.

“You're still carrying the loss of your parents, your Gran, the fact that you never seemed to interest Brent romantically, now the pain of losing Lester. At the age of 33 isn’t it all of that beginning to feel a little bit heavy?”

“I'm not a bad person.”

“You’re not.”

“I try to eat right. I exercise. I'm open to new things (depending on what they are). I don't do drugs, smoke, or even drink alcohol. I don't gamble or use shopping as therapy. Why are you criticizing me?”

Cassandra pulled me in for a hug. “I’m not criticizing you Renee. You're a wonderful person but you’re not really living. I thought if you could let go of Brent that you might be able to let go of the rest of the crap you’re carrying and move on.”

“And now?”

“I’m wondering if I should take a step back. I think I’ve been pushing too hard for what I want instead of what you’re ready for.” She said.

Unsure of how to respond I nodded.

“Would you do me a favor and get dressed? I need to do some last minute shopping. I was hoping we could go to lunch in Grenden and you could show me around. You have a new job. You still need a place to live. Let's go to lunch and look around a bit more. Let's get things sorted out so Andy and I can follow through with helping you move. After that you can come home, return to your bed, do whatever you need to do; decide if you’re going to keep holding on to your pain, continue looking for a way to let go of Brent or take the time to seek him out and tell him directly how you feel. Whatever you want to do is completely up to you. I’ll always love you and I’ll always be your friend. Nothing would make me feel better than to see you happy and if Brent is what makes you happy that's okay too.”

After a minute or two, I made my first decision of the day. I got dressed. Cassandra and I went to Grenden, looked at apartments (the shopping angle was just an excuse to get me to Grenden), after all was said and done I still wanted the apartment located in the turret of the Queen Anne Victorian. Once the paperwork and payments were settled at the realty office and the key was picked up, I returned home to my bed grateful a decision about future housing had been made.

After dinner I started scrolling through YouTube looking for an answer to my next greatest problem while I navigated through my first Christmas Eve night without a dear friend. It was time to decide if I wanted to stay on my current course regarding Brent or turn in another direction.

Letting Go Of Brent And Other Christmas Miracles: Chapter 4

 

Just when you think life can't get much worse your world comes crashing down.

Marley

Why is it so hard to let go of things that are bad for us? Why is it so difficult to let go of the parts of our lives that make us feel terrible? Do humans hate themselves so much that we feel like we deserve it or do we just hate the idea of hurting other people?

Brent hasn’t been here in real life. Correction. He hasn’t been in my life any more than he’s been in Melanie’s or Ted’s or Cassandra’s. Even Andy’s. Andy is the member of our group that Brent’s always been the closest to. Much to Cassandra’s displeasure. It must be difficult when one of your best friends marries your archnemesis. If Brent has an archnemesis Cassandra is definitely it.

Confession: Cassandra is the best human friend I’ve got but the one who’s been there for me throughout most of my life, day in and day out is not human.

 The bestie of my soul, the one who always shows up for me no matter what, is my best guy. Lester.

  Renee

I woke to the sun peeking through the bedroom curtain. It was making its way up the length of the bed, which told me one thing, I forgot to set my alarm. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, it was 6:45. I wasn't officially late. Not yet. 

I turned over to find myself practically nose to nose with Lester. He had that Samuel L. Jackson “I'm going to cut you” look about him. It inspired me to sit up, quickly.

“I know.” I said. “I'm late with breakfast, I'm sorry.” I went over my schedule for the day while feeding him. "I'm stopping by work this morning then I'm driving to Grenden for a brief meeting at the museum to finalize my start date, take a look around, get an idea of what I’ll be doing during the first week or two, that kind of thing. Then I have another appointment with Katherine Henderson, a lady at Grenden Realty to look at some rental properties.” I watch Lester while he eats, “If she can't find a comfy home for us I may have to take an efficiency apartment for now. If that happens I'll rent a storage unit. I'll just keep your things, a few clothes and books, some dishes, and the television. We'll keep things really simple at first.” Lester turned his head and glared at me. “Yes. I'll be late getting home.” He glared at me some more. “You're right, extra food is a good idea.” I respond putting more food in his dish.

The first hour or two went by quickly. The drive to Grenden seemed to take forever. It was mid afternoon by the time I arrived for my meeting with Katherine.

I was standing at a window watching the sunset in a very clean apartment with freshly painted dusty blue walls.

“What do you think?” Katherine asked.

“Everything you have shown me is nice. Very clean. Perfectly suitable.”

“But?”

“Do you have anything that feels more like home?”

A smile crosses Katherine's lips. “There might be one. Let me make a quick call.”

We were standing in a kitchen in the turret (a rounded tower) on the second floor of a Queen Anne style Victorian.  The home was situated on a corner near Grenden’s main thoroughfare. The kitchen is smaller than most kitchens. The room is clean and bright. The faucet works without any drama and the owner even found space to install a small dishwasher. Turning, I look beyond the narrow island to the smallish living room just beyond it. There’s a fireplace. The mantle looks like it’s original to the house. The chimney is still intact. An electric unit had been slid into the hearth’s opening. Most likely for safety reasons. Which was fine with me. To the left of the fireplace sits a small window seat situated in front of three long narrow windows. Walking over to the windows I take in the view, the street below is brightly lit with holiday decorations. Residents, both full-time and seasonal are out. I watch as they go in and out of shops, restaurants and other gathering places. It still feels private, I can’t hear much more than the occasional honk from a passing car. 

Things are close enough that I would only need to take a short walk to be among people, when I was ready for time to myself home would never be far away. The window seat was the perfect spot for Lester to nap and people watch.

“I'll take it.” I said.

“I had a feeling this was more of what you were looking for.” Katherine said. “Perhaps we should take a look at the bedroom and the bathroom first before you make a decision?”

I had spoken too soon, I felt the heat rising to my cheeks. As my embarrassment dissipated I tried picking up where Katherine left off. “There's only one bedroom?” I asked.

“Yes. There were two bedrooms originally. The owners took down the wall to make one large bedroom. The bathroom has been extended and there's a small alcove overlooking the backyard that would make a wonderful home office.” She said as we walked into the next room.

I was so excited about the apartment I don't remember much about the drive home. My phone rang just as I was parking the car.

“Hello? Renee? It's Katherine Henderson at Grenden Realty. I spoke with the owners and they are standing firm on the no pets policy.”

“Even with a deposit?” I asked.

“Unfortunately the answer is still “no.”

“What if I put an entire month’s rent up as a pet deposit?”

“I don't think they'll agree to that.” Katherine said. “You told me when you first called you were willing to take something temporary for the first few months. Would it be possible for you to find a place for your cat just until we’re able to find you something else?” She asked.

“Lester's an old man. We’re really close and I'm the only person he's really tolerated since Gran died.”

“Let's see.” I could hear something that sounded like a pen hitting the edge of a tablet. Katherine was thinking. “You said you needed to be moved in before the new year. Let's keep looking now that I know what your tastes are. I'm sure we can find something. I'll try reaching out to the owners one more time in a day or two, the wife seemed okay with Lester being there. It seems like it's just the husband who isn't too keen on it.”

I found myself nodding even though Katherine couldn’t see me nodding through the phone. “Tell them I can get references and I can also connect them with my Realtor here and send them pictures of the inside of my house. Lester's never done a bit of damage here.”

“I will.” She said. “If the answer’s still “no” don't worry. I'll find a great place for both you and Lester.”

We made plans to reconnect in a couple of days. Katherine said she'd call me if she ran into anything before then.

“Lester, I'm home.” I called out, putting down my things and taking off my coat. “I found a great place but the owners don't want pets there.” I said as I walked through the house. “It's their loss. You are the greatest cat ever.”

I walked past the couch and noticed there was no Lester. He wasn't in his bed either. I went into the kitchen to feed him thinking he’d come out the minute he heard food hit the inside of his dish. His bowl still had food in it. “Lester?” I called out. “Lester!” I ran through the house turning on lights and looking under furniture.

I found him in the laundry room in the back corner of the closet, he wasn't moving. Fighting to see through my tears I grabbed a towel to keep him warm. Wrapping Lester up tightly against the chill I took my best guy to the vet while I prayed for a miracle.

Letting Go Of Brent And Other Christmas Miracles: Chapter 3

 

Today was a difficult day. One of the worst I've had in a while. I ran into a problem. Who am I kidding? Problems with my next film. Problems finishing the screenplay which has led to delays with other aspects of development which is making my financial backers nervous. At this rate this project may never make it to preproduction. After a long day of that drama I got a phone call from the studio who bought my first major project (name dropping is a No No). They wanted to notify me that they were exercising their option not to market and distribute. Sigh. It took years to finish the script for my last film. I worked painstakingly on the details of every aspect of the production of that movie.

All that work to have it sit in a vault somewhere over the next few decades.

Why do I do this?

It's hard to not take so many things going wrong in one day personally. I can't let myself do what I used to do anymore. I used to cry in the shower, put on a robe, and sit down in front of you (the man currently known as Brent in my story). Okay not you but one of your movies. It would help me find a way to feel better about whatever was bothering me, usually after telling myself a story about how someday everything was going to come together and you would be impressed by me and we would meet and everything would meld into a new kind of perfect.

But I don't do that anymore.

Instead of indulging in the now defunct ‘my world is coming to an end’ go to I cried in the shower, put on my favorite robe, made a cup of tea, and sat down to journal. I'm hoping this is enough of a salve to soothe my worries at least until morning.

I kept things simple when I made the decision to let go of you. I made a promise to myself not to go down any road that leads me to unhealthy choices and trains of thought that lead nowhere.

This, dear reader, is why I don’t recommend unrequited love to anyone. It's because of moments like these when you need someone and the person you need the most doesn't know you exist, you are once again left dealing with your bad day alone. 

 May you never know this kind of loneliness.

Marley

  After everyone went home and the dishes were done I sat down on the couch next to Lester. The remnants of the meal tucked safely in my refrigerator. It's a gift to whomever hosts UnThanksgiving Dinner. A refrigerator full of leftover homemade pasta, bread, gourmet sides, and Ted's famous Beef Wellington. Although everyone had eaten till they were about to burst I still wouldn't need to cook for at least two to three days.

“What do you think Lester, shall I put some in the freezer for Christmas dinner?”

The feline had no response he was busy sleeping off his own treat, a bit of cream I found hidden in the back of the fridge that I didn't want to go to waste.

“Dinner was fun,” I continued, Lester opened an eye. “Until my announcement.” I said. “It was the wrong time to say something wasn't it? I had to say something if someone stopped by to vent about the holiday season or do some last minute wrapping away from the kids and we were gone it would have been awkward. If only Melanie hadn't mentioned Brent.”

I shifted in my seat and looked at the clock sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. I was really going to miss having a fireplace. Having found a Realtor who has an office in the town of Grenden itself I made a mental note to mention my love of fireplaces when inquiring about apartments and small houses to rent. I yawned. It was going on midnight and I wasn't ready for bed. Okay I was avoiding bed.

 What if my mind goes back to the exact place I don't want it to go? What if I dream about him?

Quit being chicken Renee go to bed.

After getting ready for bed and laying down I don't feel so brave. Being left alone with my thoughts after so many mentions of Brent these last couple of days seems to be troubling me.

Sitting up, I retrieved pen and paper from my nightstand to draft another letter to Brent. It’s not the best idea but I need to sleep and writing to him feels like the quickest way to get there.

I’m doing more of the hard things these days, as proud of myself as I am, it’s also the difficult days that lead me back to thoughts of you. Somewhere in the back of my mind is the a concern that you, Brent, are a crutch like cigarettes or gambling or alcohol is for other people. I have to admit I do feel like I have a need to see you on screen when things are difficult or spend time picking through memories of earlier days, turning pages of the picture album in my mind for comfort. I make the choice every day not to do those things just in case you are that crutch.

I do find it interesting that our friends keep reminding me I can handle anything. They, okay Cassandra, keeps encouraging me to raise the bar which is easy when you have a family at home to turn to at the end of the day, if only to distract you from your troubles for a bit. People I talk to are kind and supportive but eventually our time together is over. They return to their busy lives and I’m alone: with my thoughts.

Strangely, I don’t think I’m weak because I struggle some days but I do think building and maintaining a life on one’s own requires a different kind of strength. One that few people I know navigate well. One I had not grasped the scope of until now.

On the one hand Brent, society tells us that in order to be happy we need to be part of a couple. On the other hand, we are also told a person can be perfectly happy on their own.

  I can't help but feel like both are true under ideal conditions.

When conditions are not ideal is when we struggle. It doesn’t matter in what camp one resides.

As long as I was waiting for you I never felt completely alone. It was only as time passed, when I reached out for you and nothing happened over and over again, after watching everyone else marry and start their families. When I was still waiting for something that never came along, when I looked at my life and realized nothing was changing. It was in that moment when I decided to stop waiting for something that was never going to happen that I truly felt alone in life. Letting go of you Brent is difficult. It’s a choice I have to make with each and every new day. Choosing not to reach out some days is almost painful. Especially this evening.

I know it’s the right thing to do.

Some day I will figure out what is keeping me from loving my life as it is every day.

Some day I’ll figure out why I spent so much time waiting for you.

For now I’ll cuddle up next to Lester.

Renee