Sunday, November 5, 2017

Every God Damn Year lament that we shall not be alive a hundred years hence is the same folly as to be sorry we were not alive a hundred years ago.
 - from "That To Study Philosophy Is To Learn To Die" by Michel de Montaigne

No less is it, then, to lament that one lived a longer life than it is to wish we had met sooner, and known each other longer for the same passing. But then, our relationship would have been different, our love would have been different, if we had even loved at all.

Ten anniversaries, eleven long years. Three hundred, fifty-one days a year I can be happy, I can remember that happiness, but for the five days spanning October 31 and November 4, in the times when I am in the dark and alone, and most when I have no one to feel resting against me, it hurts like I received the call this morning, like we broke up only three days ago, like all the hatred and controversy and stalking hadn't happened yet.

It taints my favorite holiday, for which I am fond of saying, "the only day of the year I don't pretend to be someone else," which is less true than I let on.

What isn't any less true than the truth I imbue it in is:

It doesn't get easier, if anything it gets harder; but you get better at dealing with it.
 - Ace Edmonds

Though it's perhaps a little gauche to quote myself, it's apt.

Too often I hear or read of people trying to console others, insisting that it does indeed get easier. Sure, if you're lucky, or you have poor memory, or you find it easy to move on (which is more or less the same thing as having poor memory).

But if you're like me (and judging from the responses I get from my choice of wording, there's a lot of you), my adaptation of the cliche is apt.

Time does not heal all wounds. Time does however teach all lessons for living with the wounds. And what doesn't kill you might not make you stronger; it might actually make you weaker, but it will make you better equipped to deal with it coming back to try to finish the job.

Remember, remember,
The fifth of November...

 - attributed to many

The day it all recedes, and it's easier to remember the good times than it is the pain of the five hardest days of the year. That's not likely what they intended, all the people who could be attributed to the above rhyme pairing, but it's what the day is for me.