Farewell, Robert, Rest in Peace
I found out today that my friend, Robert R., died earlier this month. This was quite a shock to me, as he was a young man of 39 and I had sent him several text messages and an e-mail within the last two weeks. I received no response from him, and I surmised that he had gotten back together with his wife and, as a gesture of full commitment to his marriage, I guessed that he promised to erase all ties with women, good friends or not. Robert and I were close friends and for the last 5 years, I have listened to his tales of woe about his marriage, his wife, and their child. I wanted nothing more than for him to be happy, and I knew that while he was--in his mind, at least--unhappily married, he was committed to his child and did not really want to leave his marriage.
Although our relationship--begun 5 years ago during an 18 month separation from his wife--started out tentatively yet passionately, both of us knew that we would never be more than friends because of his commitment to his son and because of my commitment to my children and the fact that I was re-bounding from a very intense relationship. Really, Robert and I were like two birds with broken wings....we were both hurt from our relationships and were just waiting to heal so we could fly again. We gave each other what we needed at that time: a shoulder to cry on, someone to commiserate with and laugh with. He helped me so much by distracting me from my inner pain and I feel I did the same for him. Then one day, he called me and said he and his wife had decided to get back together again. I wished both of them well and prepared to go on with my life.
I would hear from him once in a while (they live about 125 miles away) but only as a friend. Months--almost years--would go by and I did not hear from him, which was fine with me. Then one day, out of the blue, he called me to tell me about his new job, a job I remembered he had wanted passionately. I was so glad to hear he got it. He had moved to Sacramento for four months training. I told him that I had had cancer and was going to begin chemotherapy shortly. From then on, when he could, Robert would call to see how I was feeling and give me words of encouragement, make me laugh, keep me company over the phone as I battled the effects of the chemo. He offered to send me money, because he knew I was unemployed (by the way, I declined his offer.). He sometimes worked the night shift, so he would often call at 2 a.m. as he was driving either to work or from work. When I started working again, Robert would give me a wakeup call at 5:30 in the morning, just as he was leaving for work himself, to make sure I wasn't late for my new job.
We saw each other a few times after I got back on my feet, but our friendship was mainly just that: a friendship. Robert and I both knew that our relationshp was what it was and that it could never be more. We would talk to each other on the phone or text message each other all the time. We would also bicker like crazy over the littlest stupid thing (like politics) and sometimes weeks or months would go by before we would talk to each other again. Then, this past February, he told me he was finally leaving his wife for good. I had heard this many times before, but I believed him this time because he said he had gotten an apartment and wanted me to come over to see it. We made plans for me to do just that, but then we had another argument over I don't know what and stopped talking to each other again. He text messaged me and IM-ed me and I ignored him. Then he started ignoring me, or at least I thought he was ignoring me. After I ignored a final IM from him about three weeks ago, I decided he had been punished enough and text messaged him. No response. I text-messaged him again. Again no response. So I called him. The phone had been disconnected. I sent him an e-mail from work asking him why he changed his number and asking him to call me. I heard nothing back.
Nothing that is, until I got a call from his wife today asking me why I had e-mailed him. I managed to talk myself out of that one, but was thrown for a loop when she said she was trying to figure things out, since her husband had passed. I was stunned. Because of my promise to Robert, I couldn't acknowledge my friendship with him. I asked how he had died, but she wasn't interested in pursuing the conversation. I gave her my condolences and told her if there was anything I could do to help, to please call me back and let me know.
I googled Robert and couldn't find an obituary. I called a friend of a friend who works in the same field and she gave me suggestions on how to confirm whether or not he died. I called the largest cemetery in his city, but he wasn't buried there. So, I thought, there might still be hope. Maybe he isn't dead. Maybe his wife had been snooping in his e-mail and just wanted to confirm before she nailed him. I called the second cemetery and yes, he had died on June 10th of a staph infection and was buried there. When I heard that, I felt my heart grow cold. I persuaded someone to send an obituary to me and after reading it, realized the finality of it all. Robert was dead.
How can I grieve? I cannot call his wife and embrace her and tell her what a wonderful and caring man he was. I cannot call his parents or his brothers and sister and offer my condolences and remembrances of him. I am in an emotional no-man's land. I was NOT the other woman.....I was someone who listened to him and gave him the opportunity to vent his frustrations with his life, his marriage, his job. I never ever asked him to leave his wife; rather, I encouraged him to work on his marriage. While we had been physically intimate, those times were far and few inbetween; our primary intimacy was an emotional one. We preferred our relationship as friends to the one we had as lovers. As I said, months and once even a year went by when we did not talk or see each other. But when we did, it was as if nothing had happened. We could pick up where we left off. There was a joy in our relationship because within that parameter, we lived for the moment and in the moment. I feel that we gave each other what we were lacking in our own lives, in our own relationships. We never demanded anything of each other and respected the limits we had each placed on our relationship.
I just needed to pour my heartache and sorrow out. I know that many, if not most, will think that I am an immoral woman because of my friendship with Robert. Please, I am not. As I said, we were two hurting people who helped each other stop hurting. We filled the voids in our hearts that no one else could fill. Our love was a true love between two friends--accepting, giving, not demanding. I treasure our moments together--both in person and on the phone.
I will miss him so much. Farewell, Robert my friend, may God bless you, may you rest in peace.
Although our relationship--begun 5 years ago during an 18 month separation from his wife--started out tentatively yet passionately, both of us knew that we would never be more than friends because of his commitment to his son and because of my commitment to my children and the fact that I was re-bounding from a very intense relationship. Really, Robert and I were like two birds with broken wings....we were both hurt from our relationships and were just waiting to heal so we could fly again. We gave each other what we needed at that time: a shoulder to cry on, someone to commiserate with and laugh with. He helped me so much by distracting me from my inner pain and I feel I did the same for him. Then one day, he called me and said he and his wife had decided to get back together again. I wished both of them well and prepared to go on with my life.
I would hear from him once in a while (they live about 125 miles away) but only as a friend. Months--almost years--would go by and I did not hear from him, which was fine with me. Then one day, out of the blue, he called me to tell me about his new job, a job I remembered he had wanted passionately. I was so glad to hear he got it. He had moved to Sacramento for four months training. I told him that I had had cancer and was going to begin chemotherapy shortly. From then on, when he could, Robert would call to see how I was feeling and give me words of encouragement, make me laugh, keep me company over the phone as I battled the effects of the chemo. He offered to send me money, because he knew I was unemployed (by the way, I declined his offer.). He sometimes worked the night shift, so he would often call at 2 a.m. as he was driving either to work or from work. When I started working again, Robert would give me a wakeup call at 5:30 in the morning, just as he was leaving for work himself, to make sure I wasn't late for my new job.
We saw each other a few times after I got back on my feet, but our friendship was mainly just that: a friendship. Robert and I both knew that our relationshp was what it was and that it could never be more. We would talk to each other on the phone or text message each other all the time. We would also bicker like crazy over the littlest stupid thing (like politics) and sometimes weeks or months would go by before we would talk to each other again. Then, this past February, he told me he was finally leaving his wife for good. I had heard this many times before, but I believed him this time because he said he had gotten an apartment and wanted me to come over to see it. We made plans for me to do just that, but then we had another argument over I don't know what and stopped talking to each other again. He text messaged me and IM-ed me and I ignored him. Then he started ignoring me, or at least I thought he was ignoring me. After I ignored a final IM from him about three weeks ago, I decided he had been punished enough and text messaged him. No response. I text-messaged him again. Again no response. So I called him. The phone had been disconnected. I sent him an e-mail from work asking him why he changed his number and asking him to call me. I heard nothing back.
Nothing that is, until I got a call from his wife today asking me why I had e-mailed him. I managed to talk myself out of that one, but was thrown for a loop when she said she was trying to figure things out, since her husband had passed. I was stunned. Because of my promise to Robert, I couldn't acknowledge my friendship with him. I asked how he had died, but she wasn't interested in pursuing the conversation. I gave her my condolences and told her if there was anything I could do to help, to please call me back and let me know.
I googled Robert and couldn't find an obituary. I called a friend of a friend who works in the same field and she gave me suggestions on how to confirm whether or not he died. I called the largest cemetery in his city, but he wasn't buried there. So, I thought, there might still be hope. Maybe he isn't dead. Maybe his wife had been snooping in his e-mail and just wanted to confirm before she nailed him. I called the second cemetery and yes, he had died on June 10th of a staph infection and was buried there. When I heard that, I felt my heart grow cold. I persuaded someone to send an obituary to me and after reading it, realized the finality of it all. Robert was dead.
How can I grieve? I cannot call his wife and embrace her and tell her what a wonderful and caring man he was. I cannot call his parents or his brothers and sister and offer my condolences and remembrances of him. I am in an emotional no-man's land. I was NOT the other woman.....I was someone who listened to him and gave him the opportunity to vent his frustrations with his life, his marriage, his job. I never ever asked him to leave his wife; rather, I encouraged him to work on his marriage. While we had been physically intimate, those times were far and few inbetween; our primary intimacy was an emotional one. We preferred our relationship as friends to the one we had as lovers. As I said, months and once even a year went by when we did not talk or see each other. But when we did, it was as if nothing had happened. We could pick up where we left off. There was a joy in our relationship because within that parameter, we lived for the moment and in the moment. I feel that we gave each other what we were lacking in our own lives, in our own relationships. We never demanded anything of each other and respected the limits we had each placed on our relationship.
I just needed to pour my heartache and sorrow out. I know that many, if not most, will think that I am an immoral woman because of my friendship with Robert. Please, I am not. As I said, we were two hurting people who helped each other stop hurting. We filled the voids in our hearts that no one else could fill. Our love was a true love between two friends--accepting, giving, not demanding. I treasure our moments together--both in person and on the phone.
I will miss him so much. Farewell, Robert my friend, may God bless you, may you rest in peace.
posted by knutty4knitting @ 9:34 PM
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