At the risk of revealing too much, the writing helps me so I will indulge.

We all as children generally choose one of two paths, to emulate our parents or to be different.

While the reason for the former is almost universal, the reason for the latter is many. I chose the latter for reasons I cannot really even explain anymore.

My sister chose the former and our roads forked at that point.

We traveled our own paths, and while we were never estranged, the closeness and intimacy we shared as little children and adolescents seemed to wane.

At first we didn't confide, then we became stubbornly entrenched, and finally just apart.

We frustrated each other over the years with our decisions and choices, pretending to understand the others when we didn't even understand our own.

Silently and unintentionally we ascribed motives, made judgements, and resisted the bond. I will now never know, or understand her reasons, and am left to ruminate over mine.

At the moment these seem selfish and shallow, and I long for the opportunity to claw back the years and forge different memories. This however, is as futile as it is tragic.

As the replay reel rolls continuously in my head, all I can see at the moment are the missed opportunities and it cuts to the bone.

A month ago she reached out to me, and expressed her desire to bring our paths closer, and she confessed that she was guilty of apathy and neglect in our relationship, and felt that I had judged her and thought poorly of her for her choices.

And in that exchange, I realized the depth and breadth of the divide caused by silence.

I told her that this was not the case, and that what my real challenge had been was not understanding who she was. A simple question with no simple answer.

She seemed relieved, and anxious for us to get to the business of rebuilding, and driving our paths onto a common route and so was I.

We spoke again after that, and things seemed to be different...

Two weeks later was Mother's Day and I sent her a txt wishing her a happy one, to which she didn't respond.

I didn't think much of it, she wasn't my mother, and I waited. Then, Thursday afternoon on the way home, I thought of her. I wondered what she was doing and why she didn't respond and I thought to call her.

Then I did what I have done for 30 years, I said I would do it tomorrow, and seven hours later she died.

I realize that even if I had called her, the laments may vary in tenor, but they would still be present, however, this particular one is hard..

It was at the core of why we diverged in the first place, as well as our last opportunity, and it was squandered.

This isn't a story of woe is me, or my personal tragedy, it is a lesson I will share with anyone I care about, if for no other reason but to spare them the burden of the sorrow I feel right now.

My father in law, whom I was very close to, told me something a long time ago that resonated, even though I couldn't understand it until much later.

He said, "Ray, life is all about relationships."

What he meant was that your time and energy should go towards the people you value, and it should be sincere and genuine.

If they value you, a relationship worth having you will have. If they don't reciprocate, you have lost nothing, and they have lost you.

I try to use that lesson as a core value in my life today, yet I didn't apply in where it was most deserving. I always thought there would be another, better, or more perfect time.

She didn't need perfect, she only needed me.

Today is the opportunity we all have, and those moments are precious, not only to the loved ones we touch, but for the nourishment of our own soul.

I will not make the mistake again.

I'm sorry if I went too far, but my heart is heavy and I didn't want to waste another opportunity.  

June 2004 –

Your favorite “Mexican” food was, for the longest time, flautas (Until you discovered Migas!). Seasoned meat wrapped in a flour tortilla and deep fried. But even upon my insistence that I had never seen anything like that in all my years growing up IN Mexico, you, on our honeymoon in the middle of Mexico, wanted  flautas. I tried to entice you into the, literal, hole-in-the-wall restaurant we had passed many blocks ago with the simmering clay pots of a variety of delicious options. As a new groom who had made his new bride travel 12 hours on a bus into the heart of Mexico for their honeymoon (I really did feel bad when the federales stole your jewelry at a checkpoint!), and had now become intimately aware of the word “hangry,” who was I to argue? Like all beautiful cities, San Miguel de Allende had its seedier side, and, lo and behold, that’s where YOU found a place that sold flautas!

We didn’t go in there. Whether I made you nervous about it or it just looked that seedy, you said, “Uh. No.” But if my lover wanted flautas in the middle of Mexico then I was going to get them.

I didn’t always give you everything you wanted but you often told me I gave you enough. I hope I did. I really do.

I miss you.

After nearly 4 months apart, we had 3 ½ hours together.
They were Good hours.
We talked about:
   How we missed and loved each other
   Work
   Friends
   Her art work projects
   Family
   Food we liked
   Me moving back to SA
   What was most bothering us
   We complimented each other
   Being depressed
   Being happy
   Our love for each other
   Who annoyed us
   People we missed
   Our children
   Our health
   Even talked about cremation services
   Said I love you and I miss you
   I told her she was beautiful and that I was proud of her
We also
   Held hands
   Hugged
   Kissed
   Laughed
   We made out in an elevator
   We made love
   We visited places
   Held hands
   Kissed in her car
   Were stupid together
   Went out to eat
   Said I love you
   We went shopping together
   Loved on each other
   Laughed
   Got scared
   Loved each other
She was 47
That was just 3 ½ hours of being with Monique.