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The One That Got Away, cont2

It's clumsy to see an ex-boyfriend at a #festive occasion. For a #neurotic like me, I always flashed back to the "way we were." And since I'm not #BarbraStreisand, I don't always appear calm, cool and collected. (Neither do I sing at these festive occasions, but then I expect you assumed as much). Usually I lack the poise to do anything but stare. What if Ted and I had only spoken to each other? Would my attachment problem have resolved itself or worsened? Would I be a happier ex-girlfriend now or would I be #depressed again? I'll never know. Neither of us ever  broke our implicit vows of silence. Neither of us could tolerate the #discomfort of speaking to each other as one mature married adult to another. Neither of us made a move to change how we related to each other. And then just like that the opportunity to change the dynamics of the #relationship was quashed. It happened like in the movie "Love Story" (which is an inaccurate comparison due to the fact that my guy--Ted-- did not ever pledge his undying love like Ryan O'Neal did so sweetly to Allie McGraw, never mind the on-screen wooden acting. Like "Love Story," one of the main characters was diagnosed with leukemia.

I heard about Ted's illness from a relative, but I brushed off the seriousness, saying, "Oh, they have so many more #treatment options nowadays, he'll be fine." Well, he wasn't fine. I could tell by the photos I googled on the Internet. His once lithe and well-sculpted body had ballooned due to the #steroids he must have been taking in preparation for a bone marrow #transplant. When I heard that his daughter married quickly, no one had to tell me why: She wanted her dad to walk her down the aisle, and Ted's prognosis was at best uncertain. Then an odd event--a vivid dream--slipped into my #slumbers one night. I hardly ever dream about reality-based things, but this time, I dreamed about Ted. And when I awoke I had an overpowering feeling of forgiveness and at the same time a satisfying #resolution of sorts. My unconscious was telling me to communicate to Ted. It was a positive message that spoke urgently of understanding, compassion, and release. Of course I never followed through on the personal contact part, and a few days later I learned Ted had passed away. I cannot help but wonder if at some point in my sleep I somehow latched onto his spirit for a few minutes as his soul floated toward its eternal destination. Or is that too sentimental or banal for an answer? It could just be wishful thinking. On the internet I sought closure by writing a few words of sympathy at his legacy.com site. I'm usually not one to believe in #supernatural phenomena, but Ted's death and #mystical appearance in my dream still #haunts me. Will it fade as time goes by? We'll see.

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