I hadn’t been back since it all happened. It happened quite a long time ago – almost 16 years ago now. As I prepared for this business trip I promised myself I wouldn’t do it. In fact I swore I would resist any and all such urges. As soon as I disembarked the plane I am afraid it started.
Why do I insist on revisiting the past? Do I just like to torture myself or is there some positive purpose to this exercise? I was on a mission to revisit my past even if I didn’t want to. I was inexorably drawn back there.
It is this past – the events that happened in this desert city - which I sought to escape by marrying Warren. When I met Warren in Italy, I hadn’t resolved or come to terms with this past. I was still mired in the past. I wanted an easy escape and I found it in my new relationship with Warren. Oh I didn’t realize that at the time. I only see that now.
New relationships are so full of possibilities. They can be the catalyst for new beginnings in every aspect of our lives. Romantic relationships, when they are new, have the euphoric effect of a drug. At first, new relationships seem like an escape from the past. But in fact the past, if left unresolved, will haunt and destroy any new beginnings as it did with my relationship with Warren. The seeds of our divorce were sown in the very beginning by the unresolved issues of our past lives.
The first encounter with my past, on this business trip, did not occur of my own volition. I passed by it on my walk from the gate where I disembarked the airplane to the baggage claim. I was struck by the starkness of the scene. The last time I was there it was teeming with life. Back then these were the United Airline gates my young children used to fly out of to visit my sister or parents. Now even the chairs had been removed. It was a big empty room. The emptiness served as an even stronger reminder of how much time had passed and how much had happened since the last time I waved goodbye to the children as they disappeared down the ramp. I continued to follow the signs to the baggage claim and then to the car rental shuttle. As I crossed the street to the island to catch the shuttle I remembered that this is where I used to drop my parents off to catch the plane back to my hometown. I see myself hugging them and saying good bye with tears in my eyes. It all seems so real! My children grew up here but they don’t think of this place as their hometown. Sadly, my children don’t have a hometown. I catch the rental car shuttle bus and silently celebrate that there are no memories here.
This is why I left. Memories were everywhere. They surrounded me and, for a while, they suffocated me. The memories were painful back then. The memories are still painful. I was surprised by the strength of those memories after so many years. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Some memories are merely poignant as so much of my life is behind me now. Some memories evoke regrets for my choices and failures and for the roads not travelled. Then there are memories of the unhappy events over which I had little or no control. These are the most powerful memories. I felt paralyzed by the intensity of the pain those memories evoked.
Oh there is much to regret and there is much to celebrate about my life here. I do feel sad that so much of my life has gone by. I feel like I failed to enjoy so much of it. I do regret getting caught up in the treadmill of life. I imagine myself as a hamster running inside the wheel in its cage. In my drive to get to the next task I missed out on the joys of the moment. I remind myself that I did gain valuable insight and wisdom during those years which has helped me to avoid this pitfall in my later years. If I allow my thoughts to dwell here too long I will be overcome with sadness for what is past.
But there are other memories as well here in this city. A real tragedy happened in my life when I lived here. In many ways that tragedy has defined my life. I calculate events as prior to or subsequent to the tragedy. I calculate my personal growth before and after that event. I mark the emotional growth of my children based on that event. That event marks my life and the lives of my children in so many ways.
If I ignore my memories I feel like I am acting outside of myself. If I indulge myself and go back in time I feel overcome with grief and regrets.
I found myself driving, without any conscious thought, around this city in the desert where I spent so many years of my life. It was here I spent my life as a young adult, wife and mother. It was almost as if someone else was in control of the vehicle. I drove past the last place I worked. I drove past the first place I worked right after I moved here. I drove past the historic district where so many events in my life took place. I stopped in front of the beautiful historic home that houses a restaurant and is a venue for private parties. The wedding reception for my last marriage took place in that house. Many years before that I threw a 40th birthday party for Eloise there. She was one of my closest friends. I tried to recall the last time I saw her.
“Eloise, Eloise!” I called as she walked past me in the cavernous hallway of the sports arena. She finally turned and said hello. We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in months. She didn’t ask me how I had been. “Can you and Brian come over for dinner with some friends next weekend?” is all she said. “We are going to be out of town that weekend,” I responded. “Another time then,” she said. I never heard from her again.
I can’t help but wish that I were staying with Eloise and her husband while I am here on this business trip. We could be reminiscing now about when our children, who are now young adults, were toddlers. We spent that part of our lives as friends. We had met quite by accident. We instantly connected. We did so much together with the children and with our spouses. We spent all our holidays together. In fact we saw each other almost every weekend when the children were young. Our spouses even became good friends. Then one day our friendship ended just as suddenly and mysteriously as it had begun.
Eloise and her husband didn’t come to the funeral. They didn’t send flowers or even a sympathy card. Maybe they didn’t know that Brian had died. They knew he was sick with Lou Gehrig’s disease.
I ran into Eloise at a restaurant a few months after the funeral. She was waiting in line in front of me. I recognized her immediately. I hoped she wouldn’t notice me. When she turned to go to her table she saw me. After I placed my order at the counter I sat at a table at the opposite end of the restaurant from where Eloise was. I deliberately sat with my back to her. A short time later, I looked up from my food to see here standing next to my table.
“Don’t you want to talk to me?” she asked. I wanted to scream some things at her but I didn’t. Did she even know what had happened in my life since I last saw her? Did she even know Brian was dead? Did she care? “I have nothing to say to you,” is all I said. She looked hurt, turned and left the restaurant. What would I have accomplished if I said those things to her? We could never be friends again not after what she had done. She was my closest friend. Right after Brian was diagnosed she and her husband disappeared from our lives.
Still for some mysterious reason I called her many, many years later. I lived in another state by then. We chatted. We brought each other up to date regarding our children. We exchanged contact information. Neither of us ever contacted the other again.
It feels so incredibly empty to return to a city where I spent so much of my life – 14 years- and so many important events in my life occurred and yet I am seeing no one from that time in my life. It feels like a huge void. My thoughts returned to Eloise. What if I had said those things to her in the restaurant? What if I had told her how much she hurt me? Would we have rekindled our friendship? Do I really want to be friends with a person who deserted me at one of the most difficult periods of my life? Maybe, while I am here on business, I should pick up the phone and call her to see if she can get together for a cup of coffee. I was tempted to call her but I never did.
