Saturday, December 3, 2011


It is odd that almost ten years later I still find myself thinking of him. Sometimes I wonder if he is ok. I wonder if he is happy. I like to imagine that he is. Sometimes I want to pick the phone up and call him. Sometimes I miss him, his smile and warmth. Sometimes I realise that I didn't really know him. I was too immature to see beyond myself and my own needs. When it ended, it was clear that this was all that could have come of it, we both wanted and needed very different things. But for a few brief years, we were what we both needed. We loved as best we could and we became better people. Now, for many varied reasons I can't call him, but I still think about him. I still miss him and love him. When I am maudlin, his memory is most strong. A glass of wine or a beer, weakens my resolve not to complicate his life or trouble him with my phone call. But over time I have learnt to trick my desire and as such his phone remains silent from my calls.

Hilton, you loved phonographs and gramophones. You loved a world that existed before you. I still have the cd you made me of Libby Holman. I still recall your seriousness as you said 'If anything ever happens to me, take the Edison phonograph'. Though you rarely said 'I love you', this was your way of saying it. Where I was verbose, emotional, expressive and quick to react, you were the opposite. Back then I didn't know how to read nuance, especially yours. My insecurity got the better of me and so I missed the best of you.
And here we are. Years later, different people, grown older and further apart. My thoughts of you are imbued with romantic dreams and fallacy. The truth is that we are human and we err. The truth is that I am very grateful that our lives crossed. You helped me grow, you gave me love and every day that I woke up next to you, I felt like the luckiest person in the world. You were and are beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind. Some people believe that once we express something, it enters the collective consciousness where others are then able to access this expression. It becomes shared in some mysterious and unknown way. I'd like to think that this is true and that it does happen. I'd like to think that my heartfelt thanks and apology for not being all I wished I could be, finds its way through the collective consciousness to you, where ever you are, hopefully happy and living a content life.

with love,

Libby Holman- 'Am I blue'.

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