More was lost in Glenn’s death than just that wonderful person.
Maybe it’s selfish and self-absorbed for me to count the things that I have lost from his passing that don’t include him. It makes it all about me, in a sense. But that’s what this blog is about, and knowing Glenn the way I did, I don’t think he’d be upset.
I was almost crying again today, thinking of him. The almost crying where you can let yourself go and have a crying fit or you can get yourself under control and not. Since I was on my way out to dinner, I chose not, but I was still a little sniffley.
Blythe and I have not spoken since she told me about Glenn. I have no desire to speak to her, but she was a part of my life for five years – it’s hard to let go completely without feeling some nostalgia or regret for the way things turned out.
I wrote an email tonight that severed another tie that was just tenuously hanging on. Alan, the third part of the trio – I emailed him to let him know about Glenn’s death and I included my phone number, saying that I’d love to get together to reminisce about Glenn. He responded within a day and said that he hadn’t heard, thanked me for letting him know, and said he would be in touch soon to meet up. I haven’t heard from him since. I wrote to him tonight and said that I was surprised that he was still pulling the same shit, that I am not the person I was four years ago who would take it lying down, and that the only reason I contacted him was because of Glenn. If he wants to be an asshole, I no longer care and am closing this chapter of my life completely.
This chapter … it holds a lot of who I am, now. And yet I can barely bring myself to read any journal entries from this period because they make me cringe. I don’t like the person that I see reflected off the pages. I know that if I hadn’t had those experiences, I wouldn’t be who I am, and I like and am comfortable with who I am now, but still … that person. I want to go back to those years and simultaneously give myself a shake and a hug and tell myself that things do get better. Instead, I’m contemplating getting rid off all those journals. I have a locked box that holds my journals from when I was an angst ridden teenager and while I am content to let them sit on their box, a part of my history that I can touch and hold whenever I want, the thought of anyone else reading them if I were gone makes me extremely uncomfortable.
So the passing of Glenn brings me to the passing of my old self into the new, and I am finding the courage to let that past go. I would never have written that email to Alan, before. I would have run after Blythe, wanting another chance. But I am not that person anymore, and I go forth into this new chapter wondering what it holds, and whether I will be looking back in another five years, cringing at the person I am now.
I hope not.