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Gail Patricia Caldwell
October 04, 1953 - June 10, 2017


No one knows....

No one knows who you are any more!

Gail was my confidant, the one who knew me more intimately than anyone. Emotionally I was an open book for Gail's eyes. What made me run? How much did I care about .............? Gail knew. For 35 years she was as much 'my rock' as she said I was for her. Gail knew. Gail always knew.

It was how we finished each other's thoughts, sentences. It was how we could easily feel each other's feelings. Empathy was the operant word in our relationship. We were very, very intimate in this manner, right from the beginning.

Speaking in messages, telepathically, gave us the clue, right at the start, that there was something more dramatic taking place with us.

A single night of forced separation, while we read books (same topic), and fumed at the other, before reconnecting early the next morning, gave us the exclamation point for our journey's beginning. We took it very seriously.

As our relationship grew, we discovered that we felt each other constantly. felt each other's feelings. During the day, one of us would have an unexplained feeling, noticeable, yet seeming to be disconnected from immediate events of the moment.

Those times, we were tuning into, and picking up the other. We were inadvertantly sharing ourselves. Oftentimes it would prompt a phone call with, "What's going on? I can feel you! You OK?" Sometimes we would just note the time, and circumstance, and confer later.

 Constantly we were struck by how much we were absolutely on the same wavelength. Thoughts are like radio fequencies that seek out a receiver of sorts. Gail and I were each other's receiver. We were in sync all of the time, without exception. "

Evenings, at bedtime, i would sometimes read a sci fi novel. OFten Gail would then report a bizarre dream the next morning that was descriptive of the plot and characters that I had read the night before. The same would hold true for one or the other of us when we had upsetting dreams or nightmares. The other one would get it.

It was never a surprise that we could not hide our feelings from one another. Nor did we want to.

"I was just going to say that!"  "I was just thinking that." "I was just going to call you." "I knew something was going on." We would say these often.

It was a level of intimacy, we discovered, that few of the people that we knew experienced.

On a more humourous note, it was extremely difficult for me to surprise Gail at birthdays or Christmas. During those times she had a hit rate for guessing what her presents were that most psychics would slobber over.

Now, however, I feel this kind of loss as deeply, maybe more deeply than everything else. Having that emotional, intellectual, spiritual intimacy ripped away is absolutely mind-numbing.

The idea tha no one knows; no one knows who you really are! No one can discern your thoughts, your feelings, any more. This is the new description of solitude that defines you.

Others may assume that they know you. The may need to put you into a slot, a descriptive category, so they can tell themselves that they understand, that they can discern how you'll respond, or behave. They may even mean well. But they are far from the mark. And you will not convince them otherwise.

This.......this is a solitude....that I...did..not...choose.

The dagger, the serrated blade, the shredding cut of separation, of separateness, of complete, and utter loneliness......is a wound, in me, that may never heal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Started by Robert Flowers on July 04, 2017
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