Last night I came home to find a package waiting for me. I recognized the address as my deceased ex-girlfriend's family address. I was a little thrown because we never got along when she was alive and that hasn't changed since her death, although we've been slightly more civil towards each other. About a year ago was the last time they sent me something and that was a tape she'd made while on vacation in Mexico, where she died. Against my better judgement, I watched it and it could very well be the only thing I've ever regretted in my life. I still have it somewhere, locked away. And I still have the last voicemail she left me a few days before her death and my birthday. I have moved on. I used to think about her ten times a day, at least, and now I think of her every few days.
Part of me doesn't wanna know what's in this box, which is why I haven't opened it yet. It's still sitting in my living room and that's where it will stay until at least Monday, because I'm going out of town this weekend. I was watching this thing the other night about people who lose significant others. This program was talking about how some people throw themselves into relationships soon after a death to numb the pain and prove they're fine. Others, and here's my category, shut down and form walls to prevent themselves from getting close to anyone for fear of losing them again. My walls have started to come down in the last year or so. But aside from the walls, I think it's better to wait for someone who's worth the time and energy. I'm not afraid of losing anyone again (except my daughter). Okay, maybe just a little. But that gets on my nerves because I know it's not worth it. Everybody leaves everybody eventually.
And so I sit here...staring at this box and wondering what's inside...though still slightly afraid of what's inside. And hoping I don't think about it all weekend...knowing I will.
