You'd think I'd be used to relationships ending, by now. I've faced a number of them. They're not unknown to me. I've seen this happen with Shirley, Susan, Denise, Sheila and Teri. One would think then, that I could manage another.
But this one was different.
Colette showed me such loving kindness and generosity. She reacted in a way towards me, which I couldn't fathom could lead to a breakup. It seemed that our relationship was so special and precious! Her feelings towards me seemed to be expressed by her when she gave me a new wallet as a gift. Inside it was a wallet stuffer containing a poem which stated how wonderful our relationship was. The words on the wallet stuffer are here.
But a short time after our one-year anniversary, she told me she needed some time away (the announcement was issued December 15, 1995, a day I'll never forget).
This declaration sure was a surprise but it resulted in a period of Grande reappraisal for me. Most of the poems I wrote were because of the resultant probing.
I hoped (and prayed) that her absence would be a temporary one. I hoped (and prayed) that she'd conclude, after a bit, that our relationship was worthy of another try. I thought that if I made some effort (albeit a bit late) then the absence would be temporary. I had discovered that my priorities had been badly assigned. I was trying to start a new career (I was working at a small sign shop--I had taken a leave of absence from my high tech job), I was active with the local theatre group and I was taking a college course during this time. All these things grabbed my focus and I didn't pay her the attention she merited. I thought, then if I took some overdue corrective measures (ie. put her at the top of the list where she belonged), perhaps she'd let us have Another Chance. A poem by that name (it's author is unknown) is here.
I clung to this hope for six weeks.
And during this time we did interact a few times. We took a long walk on one snowy mid week day. We met at Dunkin Donuts one night where she read me some of her journal entries. It was here that the song you're listening to (Don't Want To Lose You Now), played over the restaurant speakers. Tears filled her eyes suddenly and I didn't know why. But then I heard the song. She was seemingly very effected by its message. We spent all New Year's eve (12-31-95) together. She gave so many hints that she was "thinkin' about it". There was hope. And I gave her the freedom and time she requested.
On Presidents' Day (February 19, 1996) I decided, it was time to be brave and daring. I called her, asked her for a brief face to face meeting. She agreed and it was at this get-together that I asked her to marry me. This was my first (and only) marriage proposal I've ever made in my whole life!
She replied that she was seeing somebody and that it was a "very serious relationship." She told me that the relationship we had was "just a rebound relationship."
My life was then turned upside down.
The old song "Somebody Stole My Gal" seemed to, so accurately describe what I felt at this time. It is here.
She had announced her dissatisfaction with our relationship with no warning. She had found somebody else immediately. Then, I discovered that her new "serious relationship" was playing out right down the road, on my street (she had lived 25 miles away!).
The town, which she used to go to, to see me, was now the one, which she'd travel to, to visit him. The street where I lived, where she had spent so many precious moments with me was now the street which she drove on to be with him.
Rick Blaine (Casablanca)
 |
is Philipp Lenssen
(click here or on the image to see image full size)
I couldn't live in that town any more. I had to leave the town and let them have it. I sold the house where she and I had spent so many wonderful moments, in December 1996. I wrote a lot of poems to try and deal with my feelings after this sequence of events took place. The total was 60 as of December 31, 1997. I wrote a 400-page book, too.
She parted from her "serious relationship" at just about the time my house sale was finalized. We got together a few times in early 1997 and though we never relived the open devotion we had shared before, I retained hope that our separation period was past and our return to a loyal companionship was eventual.
I had written 50 poems up till this time (July 1997). She had received a copy of each one (hand written) and she had commented so positively every time she did express her opinions on one. The ones I've saved are here. I finally had typed each one into my neighbor's computer and printed out each one. I had just finished compiling them into a printed, bundled collection, complete with an introduction. On Saturday July 25, 1997, they were all bound in a notebook, ready to be presented to her (just like a real book). On Sunday, July 26, I was told she had reunited with him. My collection was given to her, by my friend Jocelyn, but Col never expressed any comments about it to me. She was gone again.
I wrote and ran and tried my best to accept and cope. The poem by CP MacDonald, The Volunteer seemed to provide me with a plan. I needed to accept that today she was gone. But perhaps someday, long into the future, we'd reunite in some way. Then, we could perhaps openly share what we each had faced and we could make peace with this episode.
The Mighty Casey got this opportunity but in a way totally unexpected and unanticipated. Twenty years after his infamous strike out; long after he must've given up all hope of ever redeeming himself, he got his chance.
Casey was in the stands, just another fan, on this day. But during the game, the team saw unexpected injuries reduce their roster to the point where they didn't have nine men available to play. They called for a volunteer from the stands and Casey's chance was suddenly at hand. I felt so happy for him. I felt both happiness and envy.
I thought that this long-into-the-future resolution opportunity might show itself and bring Col and me together again. But fate stepped in. Col, after a long struggle with cancer, died on November 24, 2000 in the house "down the street". She was 49.
The Poem "The Volunteer" is here.
I, at first felt that I was denied the same chance that Casey got. But now I can perceive that I got something similar to what Casey got. I got the chance to refind the love which we had shared. The poem describing this (titled "The Casey Lesson") is here.
So, it seems that Col and I have reconnected in a different way. Thornton Wilder's words seem to apply.
Thornton Wilder
So, it seems that there, now is a bridge connecting us. We can connect. We can be Together Again!
So, with that brief synopsis of the story, press here to get back to the Table of Contents.
(containing poems written from '95 to '99)
or select from the following list
which were written after her death
- New Year's Wish (written 1-03-01)
- Good Bye Col (written 1-07-01)
- Re-finding Fremont (written 1-15-01)
- One Question (written 1-20-01)
- The Missing Bridge (written 1-27-01)
- Tell Me More (written 2-03-01)
- Valentines Day 2001 (written 2-14-01)
- Things Change 2001 (written 2-22-01)
- At The Library (written 2-24-01)
- Thank You Colette (written 6-30-01)
- there's more... (the number of poems is 60 as of October 26, 2005)
- It's Been A Year (written 10-30-01 as a tribute to her on the one year anniversary of her death)