But I cant seem to think of anything else at the moment. It feels comforting writing my thoughts. I hope that it may help to excorsise them.
I hope.
Ive been thinking about the last night we spent together before the argument that led to the last time I would ever see him again.
Ive been thinking if only I knew then that that night would be the last perfect day I would have with him, I could have cherished the moment even more than I usually did.
It makes me feel like crying to think about it.
We worked 13 hours straight for 2 days on the trot before that last perfect night. We had been in his workshop getting some stuff ready for a nightshoot.
After the first day of working, we finished late, about 9.30pm, and we were going to try and get to Place de Clichy to get something to eat. We took the bus from the workshop in the suburbs of Paris to the metro station. By the time we got there we realised by the time we got back into the city it would be too late. We were so tired and hungry. There was a hotel right next to the station and we decided to get something to eat there as it would be easier.
We got to the restaurant and sat down at a table. We were happy, in love. I was wearing my beautiful engagement ring that sparkled every time I raised my hand to remind me of my happy ever after.
The waiter took our order and smiled at us. Whilst we waited for our steaks, we decided it would be fun to stay the night at the hotel. Its only a stones throw away from the workshop and we had to be back early the next morning. So we did it, my now ex frenchy disappeared and came back with a little key to our lovenest for the night.
I remember us smiling at each other. I remember us looking at each other with a cheeky look. I remember looking at him and thinking how lucky I was. How absolutely gorgeous he was. We ate our steaks and chatted about our wedding plans. I remember us talking about going on holiday together as soon as we found a flat. I remember us deciding to have a desert and going to the desert table to choose. There were these delicious little custardy things with gooey meringue on top. I remember him telling me they were called “floating Islands”. I remember us both taking one.
I remember finishing our meal and going up to our room. I remember looking outside the window at the ugly view of the perifique. I remember making him a cup of mint tea. I remember looking in the bathroom at the fantastic shower we had, compared to his one in his flat and the massive big bed that was so different to the rickety one on stilts we had been sharing.
I remember us stripping off and washing our undies for the morning. They lay on the radiator, his and mine, side by side. I remember him flashing his bum at me and us laughing.
I remember us getting into bed and putting the tv on. I remember us switching off the lights and making love. It felt so intense, with so much longing. Our lovemaking was always amazing, but that night felt different in some way. Did we both know in our subconscious that it would be the last time?
I remember looking into his eyes as we both died our little death together. We were smiling, then laughing.
WHY THE FUCK DID IT ALL HAVE TO GO SO WRONG.
I remember falling asleep in each others arms. Content. Safe. Warm.
Happy.
That was the last time I felt happy. I dont feel that I will ever feel that way again. My heart feels so shattered, my dreams, my hopes. I type this through a well of tears. Its taken me about 2 weeks to start crying. And now I cant seem to stop.
I feel so betrayed. I know it will get easier but there is a part of me that doesn’t want it to, because that means he will be gone from my thoughts.
I will never forget that last perfect moment I had with him. Maybe thats why I want to write it down. To help me remember that it wasn’t all bad, and that there were moments I really felt he loved me.
I wish more than anything that I could ease your burden for you. I hope that with the passing of time, it’s gotten better for you…but I’m sure it will take much more time to be fully healed.