As I downsize, declutter, only keeping that which gives my heart a wee flutter, brings happiness. Things get moved around a lot. Thinking that it's still too much stuff yet, I know where everything is.
At least I thought I did.
To organize important papers an accordion file which I keep in a waterproof, fireproof vacuum sealed safe works nicely. Have only gone into that safe once or twice in the last couple years.
I had to look for some important paperwork, I knew or at least I thought I knew just where to find it. In the course of going into the accordion file a familiar scent drew me to one particular compartment.
Having a very sensitive sense of smell can, at times be a bit of a curse. I knew exactly what that subtle, still delicious scent was. With my heart pounding so hard, I drew out the letters that I had carefully tucked away a minute ago.
It's indeed a mystery as to how the letters got there.
There they were, the love letters that Steve Szasz had written to me. I really believed they were in the dust jacket of the book, also from Steve. The Cosmos by Carl Sagan.
It's a mystery to me as to how they ended up in the accordion file. Steve had a natural scent that I loved; it was still clinging to the paper he had written on.
My puppy, PJ, was worn out, snoring loudly in his crate with his blanky. A perfect time for me to indulge in some needlework. I had stitched for 3 hours until my eyes began to ache. Then, I got the accordion file out. Finding the love letters from Steve gave me a different sort of ache. Then, the tears started.
Threw me back into the pain pit.
Feeling that the letters ended up there for a reason, maybe? I opened them, one at a time.
Reading those words he wrote. Such elegant, profound words. Some of them were in his beautiful scrolling handwriting while others were written in printing non-cursive style.
The words he wrote to me, Oh the words! So intense with passion, feeling, emotion, affection. Quite remarkable considering he was just 17 when he wrote them. Even the beginnings of the letters with ~
Hello my Love, Brenda
Dearest Brenda
My sweet Love, Brenda
Love of my Life, Brenda
Even the very beginnings of the letters were infused with love, with passion, with such true emotion. They were packed with his thoughts & plans for our lives together. Ideas on where to go ring shopping for the wedding rings, how we would go, together to give the news to our families that we were getting married. He also offered an alternative plan for me to tell his family & my family of our impending engagement as he was far away, working.
Some of it was rather risqué in his description of what he wanted to do with me after we were married. It was still in good taste just very personal.
The very ways he cherished me spoke directly to my heart.
For the time that I spent, poring over those letters though this is a bit cliche' I allowed the tears to fall like raindrops. Being careful that none of my tears fell on the letters to keep them preserved. Treasures beyond measure.
I wrote love poetry to him; he wrote love letters to me.
It was such torture to be so far apart, physically. He wrote of the intense pain he felt at us being apart, saying that ~
"This is the time when love begins to hurt while it's so worth it."
Writing of how he never thought he could love a woman so much, even more than he loved his blood family.
I felt the same way about him. Expressing it in poetry along with a couple of letters. It was so intense, the love between us.
After we had an argument, once, he wrote a letter telling me that he loves his freedom, loves me more than his freedom, that the feelings were tearing him up inside, causing such conflict. That when he feels the conflicting feelings, they would evaporate just seeing me, running his fingers through my hair, gazing into my light green eyes.
All would be right in the world.
The feeling between us was mutual though I had fewer conflicting feelings. The only conflict for me was his nicotine addiction.
Sitting on my bed, the slight scent of Steve, letting my tears flow freely, the sun began to rise. I must have been lost in re-reading those letters for at least 2 hours or more.
I have a feeling that he is still alive, I can feel his essence which can transcend time, distance & space.
My sense of intuition is very strong. My intuition feels that Steve is bound up, somewhere. Maybe mentally, maybe physically or even legally. It could be a jail or a care home or maybe a psychiatric facility. Maybe he took extreme action to be able to protect his son.
The intuition feels so strong.
It could be off base or correct. It could be incorrect, unlike so many people, it's okay for me to admit it if I'm wrong. This feels correct.
It feels as if any moment the phone will ring, that it will be Steve. That we will have another deep conversation like we did before, that it will be another chance to reconnect with him. In person. Face to face.
As long as it is also his wish, I will hold onto him this time around.
Taking a different approach, I was letting myself grieve instead of fighting it.
How much longer will I grieve. It's unsure. Every time I think I'm done, it starts again.
Speaking to myself in my head as I would speak to someone I love, I say, "it's okay, babe, cry if you need to, cry it out. remember that grief is love with nowhere to go. take care of you, your heart. a love like the one we had, from my perspective, anyway, is worth the pain."
There is no one I can turn to for comfort. The ones I thought I could trust, in this town have betrayed me in such cruel ways. They have taught me to be extra wary of people who call themselves "Christians".
In my experience it's just a smoke screen. They are, in reality, worse than some people who don't say they are Christians, instead, hanging crosses everywhere.
I say this as it's what life is like for me. I'll have to get through it on my own as I have usually done. Alone in the world, trust no one. Not even Star Fleet. An attempt at humor. Yeah, I love Star Trek!
Because of my life experience of so much betrayal.
What keeps me alive keeps me alone.
