"I Cried, Too
by Meredith Maran
“Meredith? This is Sarah, David Gold’s daughter,” said the sweet, young voice on the phone. “I got your name out of my dad’s address book. I’m calling about the memorial.”
Memorial. Memorial? The word echoed in my brain. Shock fought denial. Denial won. Must be the funeral of a mutual friend. He asked his daughter to call me because … because …
“Oh. I’m so sorry,” Sarah said into my silence. “Did you not know that my dad died Tuesday?” The room swirled. I couldn’t catch my breath. Then I heard her asking the question I’d hoped I’d never hear: “How did you know him? I don’t recognize your name.”
“He was an old boyfriend,” I replied. The truth. And an obscene simplification. At the moment Sarah was born, her dad and I were making love. We loved each other (in and out of other relationships) for the next 20 years.
I extended my sympathies to Sarah and hung up. Then I started to cry.
I wanted to call a friend, someone who’d known David, someone who knew what we’d meant to each other. I wanted to pack my black dress and get on a plane. I couldn’t do either. My affair with David began in secret; it went on that way. Only Sarah’s mom knew about David and me. I’d never found a way to apologize to her, and his funeral hardly seemed the time or place to begin. And so I began stumbling through the stages of grief alone.
I did a few rounds with anger. Hey, if he really loved me, then we would have been together. Well, if I really loved myself, then I wouldn’t have been with another woman’s man.
And bargaining. If I apologize to his wife and daughter, will that heal the hole in my heart?
And depression. It’s no fun living in a world that doesn’t have him in it.
As for acceptance, I haven’t gotten there yet. I visit his town and want to see him rounding the aisle in the grocery store. I write stories I can’t wait to show him, find treasures I can’t wait to send him, wake from dreams I can’t wait to share with him.
Would I ache less if I’d gone to David’s funeral? If I’d had the sympathy of people who knew how he and I loved each other? If our love—and my loss—had earned the Good Housekeeping Seal of social approval instead of the scarlet letter? I’ll never know.
I longed in private for my lover when he was alive. I long in private for him still. My longing is all I have left of him. "
Mấy ngày nằm nhà, bật TV, coi một khúc Premonition có Sandra Bullock đóng. Tới cái khúc có người đàn bà "kia" đi đưa đám, chỉ dám đứng lấp ló sau cái cây mà khóc, tự nhiên nhớ tới bài "I cried, too" hôm nọ tình cờ đọc trong lúc ngồi chờ trên tiệm hớt tóc. Love Sandra Bullock to death nhưng không hiểu chút xíu gì về cái phim khó hiểu này hết.