End of the year promises

My New Year's resolution: I'm gonna finish this drink.

"I Miss You Still"

(epilouge to “I Remember Christy”)

Two weeks ago I was looking at a postcard I bought. It was the new “Greetings from Minnesota” stamp. I was preparing to venture back to P-Ville for Christmas break, so I wanted to send it to one of the girls back home. For some reason I chose Christy. I’m not sure why. We hadn’t spoke since last Spring, and that ended poorly for us. Still, I had a desire to see her again, hoping that her situation had improved. I wrote the standard: finishing up with classes...coming home for a month...love to see you again... call me at...

When I got home, there was a message waiting for me. It was from Christy’s brother Ron, whom I had met only once or twice. I put that away for a few days, because I was sure it wasn’t going to be a pleasant call. Yesterday I did muster up the courage, and called Ron. When I introduced myself, he asked if I was sitting down, and that was all the conformation I needed. I knew when I first saw the message, I was just hoping for something less tragic. I talked to Christy’s mom for a while and she told me how Christy hadn’t been doing well, and how she shot herself last April. “Well, I guess that’s it then.”, I said.

Last April. Wow, that was a long time ago. It was right after the previous spring break. Christy and I had done the same old song and dance of us making plans, and she would break them, just like before. I knew she was hopeless, but I still wanted to keep our friendship alive, I loved her.

When I got back to Bemidji, she began explaining away. How got pregnant with Phil and he made her have an abortion. Also Phil hated me because of our affair and the fact that I was a drinker, and some preconceived notion of his that all drinkers are abusive alcoholics. She really didn’t defend me, and I took offence. I wrote an email to her, more or less reading her the riot act. She wrote back rhetorically asking if I would have raised another man’s child with her, if I could ever love that much. This angered me that she would make such a judgement upon my character. I guess she didn’t know that I was the son a of an adoptive father who I loved dearly. So, I didn’t write back. Two days later, she killed herself.

When I did write that postcard, I knew that I wanted to end it with something that would ring true. Something that, if looked at with the right eyes, might trigger some emotion left over from before. Something warm and kind, that would show I still cared. I thought about an ELP song, and ended it with, “I miss you still.”


Goodbye Christy