Friday, January 27, 2006

Come what may

I’m missing Bev right now. It’s not so much because I want her, but more so that some others don’t understand what we had, but criticize it. One such person has recently revocalized her opinion that the whole encounter with Bev was a big fake. Reasoning doesn’t really work when talking to someone that is convinced they figured the whole thang out. I simply tell her that for the whole thang to be faked there would have been an expansive operation requiring me to believe that I was some how worthy of getting the attention of a group of people that had a cohesive story, thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours to spend on the simple effort of messing with my feelings. It just doesn’t make any sence that I would be a target of such a conspiracy, or that such conspiracies even exist.
I can understand that online, many people do pretend to be someone they are not. I’ve have experienced this myself. However, the events around Bev and me were both costly in time and money. My own phone bills got near $2000 over the last couple of months of our time together. I only made about 1/3 of the calls we had. That means she spent about $4000 on phone calls to me over that same period. Unless I’m the subject of a well funded operation, this really doesn’t seem like reasonable costs for pretending to be someone to mess with some guy somewhere. These are the costs that I can verify directly. There were other costs also involved. Plus, to be fake would have involved the establishment of a whole series of characters and acting; people I talked to directly over the phone and online. This isn’t completely outside the realm of possibility, but still seems very unlikely. Anyways, there’s plenty of issues that aren’t addressed by saying the whole thang was faked.
The facts are that we started talking online around the middle of 1998. Eventually, this progressed to talking over the phone, longer and longer periods of time. There was a time I was spending more time on the phone with her than working, hence the massive phone bills. Falling in love was a slow process that wasn’t immediately apparent to either of us in our early discussions. It hit both of us big in late January 1999. Events did conspire against us, and on the surface, this does make it hard for people outside the situation to understand or even believe what was going on. I don’t need evidence, because I lived it. I own my love for her. It’s mine to keep. I know in my heart that her love for me was great. She often made it very clear that it was she that fell in love with me first.
We tried to meet but for complex reasons, neither of us was able to manage it in time. She slowly weakened due to a series of events, and eventually passed in coma in late May 1999. The weakening of her health struck home to me only after I found an older voicemail of hers and was shocked by the strength in her voice verses what I had since become accustomed to over time. It was always our hope that meeting each other was just around the corner. I was on the phone with her when she went into her final coma, though I didn’t realize it at the time. She knew in some way, though. It’s nothing I can explain here. I can only give her final words without comment about how they came to me.
Our expressions of love for each other were considerably over the top. I’m sure that is in part because of the nature of our relationship. Perhaps we over-compensated for the inability to meet face to face when we wanted to. But what we had is still as real today as it was then, and no criticism or judgment can change that. What we experienced was real to both of us, and that’s all that matters to me. I love her today, prolly more so than then, but it is different. I accept the situation, and don't hold on to the past. I miss her. However, I have no desire to go back in time to fix what went wrong. She will always have a place in my heart. It's just that simple.
Of course, this article covers hardly anything that happened, nor does it come close to fully explaining what it does mention. It’s just a strike against unfounded (though prolly well meaning) criticism of a period in my life which had a great impact on me.

No comments: