the love of my life

I was waiting for someone very special.

Unfortunately, I did not know to refrain from sexuality with other men in the mean time.

A young friend of my father’s said in a get-together I wasn’t part of, as was normally the case, suggested that I needed someone strong–SEXUALLY strong.

Alex and I wandered into each other’s lives and had no idea what we were doing together.

But, the main problem in my mind at that time was the problem of being English in America. I was very pessimistic but I did see hope in getting together with a Canadian, which he was, It was was the best bet I had come across in my relational and romantic journey.

In the end we both helped one another. Nobody EXPLAINED to me about sexuality and marriage and children. By the time I was about 25 I knew that I wanted children and Job 1 after that was getting off the meds that were very harmful in pregnancy. I was on two of them. Then Alex came along and made me understand, in his quixotic way, about sex and marriage are about having babies.

So, fast forward 30 years and we have been separated for ten. I don’t know whether the divorce was legal.

But he is and will remain the love of my life. He probably doesnt even want that given how badly it turned out for me. I don’t know about my longevity and other things pertaining to a good end. But I have discovered the Catholic Christian basis for a good life. Blending Canada and England AND AMERICA became my passion. We all have dual nationality in our family. For me it was finally a question of CHANGE. At age 60, its a little late to still be hanging on to dreams of an England that doesn’t exist any more and embracing Canada for holding onto England in a proactive and forward-looking way and being freed to love America.

Recently I have gotten over my spurning America for importing Africans for slaves and stealing the country from the natives here. I have done the same thing! I emigrated from England to Canada and from thence to America to become a true American national. But also an international person/ They told me at the US Embassy or Consulate, I don’t remember, that I was lucky to be a dual national. And then, I didn’t find that.

But I met Alex who had lived all over Europe in his teens and he got me a British passport.

It seemed there was nothing he couldn’t do.

But we just couldn’t seem to coordinate our activities. It ended up with him working out of town. I was so ill I could not be in the same vicinity to where he worked. I am not a social being. Just as i am not a sexual being. If I had understood my pain I would have organized my life differently.

I read or heard somewhere that you CHOOSE who to love and that is what I did with Alex. He was an interesting fascinating person. Because of my family situation and medical condition it was wrong of me to involve myself in his life. I did some taking advantage there myself. He Just didn’t know how to communicate in America. Not where I was at.

And it got frustrating and it got old.

Now, I am getting at the root of what was going on when he came to our home here and my brother and his NYC girlfriend were here and my sister was here; and trying to put the pieces back together from what happened. This was a person I didn’t want to see hurt. Steven, (my brother), totally took advantage and pulled a fast one. I don’t know entirely what went down but I saw everything wslipping out of my control at that moment and it wasn’t nice.

Maybe its about the abortion. Maybe there really was one when I was 13. I totally block it out. I remember sitting on the bed along in the room with sweets from the candy machine desperate with pain that made me feel painfully empty inside. like someone had just sucked the life out of me. I just sat there and stared but there wasn’t much to see in one of those concrete cubicles we lived in. My mind focused on nothing, I ate the candy and it did not give me relief.

I’m thinking, oh my god, this really happened, this is really true. I remember and have written it down about the feelings on the beach when I looked at him in horror not knowing what it meant, and wondering all these years. And in the boat when I felt like they could all see inside me: it was a baby.

Its slowly together in my mind.

NOW I understand about Alberto and Judy at Wernersville State Hospital. It should have been a tipoff: Judy (my mother was Judith) and Alberto, (my father was Bernard): I got involved in between the two of them and it was horrible. I said good bye to them in Oceanside California when I was on the psych ward there pregnant and refusing meds.

The person who was the young friend of my father’s from work who said that I needed someone strong also helped me to understand that what I was trying to explain to him was that I was “striving towards the norm.”

Hey Alex, I ditched the norm for you. You were my norm.

You “took a gamble” on me, but it took too long for you. You were a challenge for me. STRONG.

I hope you are well.

I wish you were mine.