Closure

Closure. It was something she had longed for, begged for, something she thought she would never receive. In truth, she had all but given up on ever speaking to him again let alone ever knowing why. But that ghastly time was locked away in her mind. Sealed in a tight little box and hidden in a corner to collect dust. Of course it didn't stay sealed. How could it, when the scars on her heart, on her self-esteem, her pride remained fresh enough to seep and bleed a little whenever there was the slightest chance of rejection in her current life.

She didn't think of it, of him, often. The scars were not uppermost on her conscious mind. She had put him and them out of her mind and heart when she had fallen in love with her husband. Her husband. She smiled just thinking of him. The man who had picked up the broken pieces of her and fitted them back together. The man who had tried his best, had worked hard, to heal those wounds. He'd succeeded in growing the shiny new scar tissue over her hurts, but the hurt, rejected girl she had been was still inside. For years, that girl whispered, quietly. "How can he see you the way he says? He's just saying all the right things, he can't possibly mean them. You are not beautiful or amazing or any of the wonderful things he says. You're not worthy of a wonderful man like him."

And when life happened, as it did, and things weren't as wonderful between them because they were tired, irritable or just busy, the voice would be stronger. When things were great and they were closer than ever, the voice would grow quiet, unable to destroy their happiness. But never did it leave completely. There were other incidents that contributed. Ones from before this one and from after. They all served to strengthen that horrible voice, to give it ammunition and power.

Then one day, out of the blue came the opportunity to speak of it once again. To ask why. Why did you do that to me? What did I do to make you treat me that way? And for the first time, he tried to answer her as honestly as possible. "I was young," he said. "I cared too much what others thought and too little about the consequences of my actions. I cared too much about myself and my standing with my friends to realize that I would be hurting you. I didn't even think of it when I lashed out at you."

Honest, yes. Apologetic even. It would do.

As he castigated himself and swore that the incident had changed him, that he'd become cautious in his words, because of her, she wondered "Is this what closure feels like? Looking into the past with eyes unfettered by hurt, by disappointment, and realizing that what had caused so much heartache was so childish." It was a revelation. Emotions always seem bigger when they are happening.  If you are able to let go of the emotion, time will bring maturity and cool dispassion. Those feelings that she had had would have dissipated quite easily if they hadn't been locked into place by his callous treatment of them. And by her bewilderment at everything that had come after.

Looking at him from the perspective of her life now, she wondered what she could have seen in him, when the man who had chosen her, had loved her even when she was broken, who was her true soul mate, was so very different. Her husband was her other half in a way that no other could ever be.  Closure, she finally understood, was simply a matter of realizing that what had happened was for the best. If she hadn't been hurt before, how could she realize how precious what she had found really was.  She looked around at her home, her husband and her child with a lightness of heart that came from setting down a heavy burden. She was happy.