I took off to Turkey in the blissful knowledge that after the year we had been through, which had been far from easy, it was going to culminate with NG moving back in with me in just 3 weeks time. I did feel all was not as it seemed but as I have said, she was so hard to read by then. I didn’t want to push her but she told me it was happening, so off I went after spending our last two days together (I know now). She was working all week so I would not have seen her had I stayed. If she had not been working I wouldn’t have went.
Whilst I was away, about 4 days into the 7 day trip, she felt ill at work and went to hospital. She was admitted with Appendicitis. She rang me and I immediately looked for a flight back but she told me not to worry. It was just minor and she would be home in 2 days.
I did worry. Fully aware I didn’t come home from India when her dear Grandmother died, I knew how important it was to get there this time. But her reassurances stopped me looking. There were no flights on my airline, but why didn’t look at other airlines? If I had.. well.. life is full of buts.
She was released two days before I was due to come home and asked could she stay at the flat. Of course she could. It was still her flat as I saw it. I spent the remaining day buying her presents and looking for her favourite Turkish sweets. Those bloody sweets..
As she couldn’t remember I went around all the shops in 40 degree heat taking photos and was WhatsApping them to her to ask if these or these were the ones? I was getting no reply and the shops were all closing so I called her. She said she was trying to sleep but was constantly being woken up with her phone going off. She was agitated. I was angry that she didn’t appreciate my efforts and ended the conversation saying I’d speak to her tomorrow. She texted me and told me she would be out by the morning. I wrote her an email, as she wouldn’t answer the phone and had blocked me on WhatsApp and text immediately, asking her not to go, and apologising for not knowing or thinking she could be asleep.
The next morning, 9 hours before I was due to come home and care for her, I noticed I had been unblocked on WhatsApp so I texted her and asked her was she ok now and that I hoped she wasn’t leaving. She replied saying both her body and mind were not well but I didn’t quite understand. It was cryptic and I had little sleep stressing about her. I asked her what she meant and in my tiredness put two kisses where she had put 4. With that she said “I don’t need you anymore” and “you are never here when I need you” and that she would be gone when I got home. I told her she was ill and in no condition to go anywhere 2 days after an operation. She instantly blocked me again and that was it. I sent more and more mails with no reply furious in the knowledge I could not get there to stop her in time. Finally I was resigned to my fate and I gave up sending a final mail saying I was so sick of all the uncertainty and her moods and to not forget anything when she ordered her taxi. I didn’t do my best. I gave in. I was tired of fighting her.
I still brought those bloody sweets home. If she could have just remembered what it was called – Baklava. It was everywhere. Right in front of me all the time.
When I got back to the flat at 3am that early morning, she was gone. I preyed it wouldn’t be, but knew it was, the start of the most terrible ending to a relationship I have ever experienced. I knew then it was not going to be a civil and gentle end to our time.
We both had talked about this previously and we knew we never, ever wanted to hurt the other one in this way. And NG knew there was every chance I’d go insane and revert to my Childhood Trauma if it did end like this. But she had probably decided by then that nothing else was going to work. I can only imagine what she was thinking with everything going on in her head. She is not responsible for how I handle rejection and the complicated reasons why it nearly kills me. I know that.
But I also know if this awful taste in my mouth for the horrible and awful way this, and final two weeks that followed before she left the Shire for good, doesn’t go I will feel this pain for far longer than is healthy for me. It will impede me. I was left feeling like a virus, a cancer that had to be cut out, a bad mistake, a bad smell you had to get as far away from as you possibly could. A Fucking Disaster.
I hope I can stop feeling like that one day soon. It would help me to get where I need to go. It would make a huge difference to my recovery time. I don’t want to waste the next 2 years feeling like this.
I don’t want that to be my final memory of her.