I am not the Kelly I was before the affair.
I’ve talked about it before, I’ve mourned her and I have accepted she is gone…my husband has not. I have found myself being lead back to her this week, by God? By fate? By some cosmic irony who thinks it’s funny? I don’t know, all I know is I keep hearing about her.
I was dashing around, fixing supper? Cleaning up after supper? I don’t remember but my son’s girlfriend and my other ‘son’s’ wife, were sitting at the counter chatting with me. I was innocently asked if I always made such huge meals, with all the sides and stuff. I laughed and answered no. My son’s girlfriend started telling her about ‘the good old days’, back when she first came around and I ALWAYS made huge meals. I listened to her ramble on about the old Kelly, the one pre-affair, who was one step away from having a giant ‘S’ on her chest and wearing a cape. I didn’t have to make any excuses, they both know why/what happened that changed me. But hearing her brag about her, made me sad she was gone.
My oldest ‘son’ then mentioned her in a phone call. He was reminiscing about her to his girlfriend, how I’d say “Screw it” some weekends and declare a horror movie fest. We’d rent a bunch of scary movies, make a bunch of junk food, and veg out all weekend. He remembered the old Kelly and how she was random and fun.
I went to Kansas for my dad’s 60th Birthday Party, and visited with my grandma and aunts. I hadn’t been back to my teenage home since the affair, and there were ghosts there. My dad at one point informed me, my bulletin board and pictures were all up in my old room. I smiled at him, and made a mental note “avoid my old bedroom”, because I knew she was there. She was there in pictures, laughing and goofing around, carefree and happy…she was still there in a shrine, and I didn’t want to ‘light a candle, and visit with her’, I wanted her to rest in peace. To stay with the dust bunnies and old prom dresses, undisturbed.
Finally yesterday I was talking to my husband, and I told him “I will never be the same person as I was before, I have made my peace with it, accepted it and moved on. You need to too…” He shook his head, and told me “She’s not gone.” I just shook my head, and kissed him. He’s not ready to accept that even as I’m healing she’s not coming back, she is gone.
I don’t know why she kept popping up. Why she was so in my face, haunting me this last week. If my family wouldn’t think I was crazy, I’d give her a Viking Funeral. I’d pile on all the old pictures, clothes, books, mementos, and her stinking wedding ring…I’d pile it up on the wooden pyre and set it afire.
I wonder if as the ashes were scattered by the wind, I’d hear her giggle one last time. I wonder if she’d finally go on, and give me peace.
“It’s OK to hurt, and it’s OK to cry
Come let me hold you and I will try
How can I help you to say goodbye?”