Don't assume

Just because I haven't been mentioning the philosopher in every post doesn't mean that I don't miss him. I came home late this afternoon from the final deliberations of a committee I've been serving on, pleased with the outcome, pleased with the process, and desperately wishing I could call him up - or at least e-mail him - and say: It's done. We did good. And next Saturday morning I can sleep in.

I did e-mail the sadist when I came home. But it wasn't the same. It was more to tell him I was home and available to handle whatever assignments he wishes to give me than to share with him my thoughts and reactions. It's not that sort of relationship. He is not my boyfriend.

I miss talking theology with John.
I miss talking politics with John.
I miss telling him the latest cute things the cats did.
I miss hearing about the latest DVD he's watched.

Hmm... I just checked. He hasn't removed me from his Netflix friends list. Of course, I haven't removed him from mine, either...

I did take his picture off my desk at work. But, and this is a hard admission, I haven't changed the picture on my computer desktop. It is still a beautiful, pensive shot I took of him over a year ago, a profile, reading a magazine, with a slight smile in the corner of his mouth.

I can't do it.

I just can't do it.

He is too much a part of me.

He doesn't seem to be visiting here any more. Or if he is, he's covering his tracks very successfully. But he hadn't been here much in the final few weeks anyway.

It's Spring. Even 4 hours north of here, it must be Spring. I hope he is feeling better. I hope he isn't too angry with me. I hope he doesn't miss me. I hope he is getting work done.

I lied.

I do hope he misses me.
I wish there were a way we could have made it work.
I still wish there were a way to make it work.
But I mustn't think that way.
It achieves nothing.
Nothing but pain.
It's easier to deal with the sadist's torture than loss.

So I don't write about him.
I write about Spring and cats and floggers and welts.
But that doesn't mean I don't still grieve.
And it doesn't mean I don't still wish for a miracle.