by Jess Kolbe
He was saying goodbye and I couldn’t listen, I couldn’t believe it, I still can’t believe it, my life feels so surreal. I turn reaching for Evie, and she’s not there. I can’t bear to look at her, I call her name and she holds me, she wraps herself around me and my grief pours out of me. We stay like this for a long time and I don’t want to move, to breathe. I want to close off to the world and stay here with her, feeling her kindness. I take a deep breath of her, to compose myself and feel more of her closeness, she moves and I help her to arrange herself next to me, feeling raw, exposed and not wanting her to see me so wounded. She’s seen my worst. Why would she want anything to do with me? What do I even want? Fuck, I am a mess.
HER | Fifteen
The story of a father tragically taken way too soon feels like a giant empty hole in the pit of my stomach. Then finally as my tears have slowed, Sam expresses that he’s been trying to hold it all together, trying to be the head of the family and keep his shit together. He switches emotions and immediately is angry. I’m confused, he’s like, ‘I’m not this fucking guy and I’m not going to be weak.’
I desperately want to wrap myself around him, climb on top of him and hold him in my skin. An epic battle of grief is happening, grief and fear holding the floodgates at bay for Sam. I know it well, I literally bite my tongue, I can’t try to fix it, I can’t make him feel better. I force myself to stay put, mouth closed. Straight away he takes a sharp, clearly frustrated, breath, forcing himself to regain composure.
“This shit is new for me, Evie. We opened Pandora’s box, bringing things out in me that I was trying to avoid, do you understand me? I have to live up to my responsibilities and what Dad wanted me to be and I need to keep my shit together, so I can take care of Mum and Ruby, even though they decided on a family fucking intervention today and unconsciously brought me right to you.”
I’m getting desperate now in my need to nurture to take away his pain to shield him, even though knowing that I can’t. I know loss, and this kind of loss is not one that can be overcome. The kind that is too big, the kind that you must learn to live with, not forget, live with, actually have a relationship with the love that exists, living on in the love you have. My God, I am falling in desperate messy love with this stunning man, his rawness and ability to remain masculine in his emotional pain, and share it with me. I feel honoured to have heard his love for his dad and sad that I won’t be able to meet him. This is a man I would chase and hope to love, one day. I feel privileged to hear about his father and overwhelmed because all that I have ever wished for is in front of me. A little pang in the depths of my mind reminds me that monsters live inside me too. I’m quick to ignore my own pains and focus on Sam. A man who is attempting to be honest in his emotions permitting his pain to take its own course right in front of me! This is emotional truth and to bear witness is such a special moment of trust. I’m trying to just allow the space he needs, not making it about me.
I am also daydreaming about the father he will be, praying that I’m the one who gives him boys, because this man right now personifies beauty and sexy in one. I’m brought back to reality, and him, when he says my name. He’s searching for me, trying to say something and it feels abruptly uncomfortable. I stand and move towards him, he turns and immediately we embrace. Him against my womb, my sacred womanly self, wanting to hold him. I want to embrace him now. I slide down his body onto my knees, so we are eye to eye, wrapping my arms and legs around him, half tumbling. Sam steadies me, sitting back, allowing my body to wrap around him tightly, taking him into my heart. Embraced. I’m not sure how long we hold each other like this, and I don’t want it to stop. I lift my head from his shoulder and look at him, feeling quite exposed now at the realisation of our position and how it feels to both of us. I get off him, with his assistance, and sit next to him.
“Sam, I have no idea how to comprehend your loss, nor your relationship with your dad. You sound like you have a very loving family. I don’t know a lot Sam, but I do understand pain a little and what I have learnt is when we lose people who matter they live on in the people who loved them. Our relationship with them doesn’t stop, it changes, and we learn how to continue to love them differently. We discover ways to honour the love we had together, how they shape us, and continue to love us. The pain doesn’t stop, we don’t get over it, we just learn to love them differently. I’ve learnt to love my hurts because it is also a reflection of how hard I loved and love. Grief needs to find a way to live out of us, not internalised and controlling us. We need to be freed by the trauma of our loved one’s final moments to live in the great times of why we loved them so. Why your dad was a great man and better yet, the best loving father he could be for you, Sam.”
HIM | Sixteen
Evie’s comments seem to make sense, in that I should stop fighting and trying to forget, I think. I feel lighter and I am not sure if that is because of the emotional release or Evie’s words or all of the above. Right now, it doesn’t matter, I’ve not held it all in. I don’t have to get over it, he’s my dad. This is how I love and honour him now. Her words are strangely comforting. She’s right, I am incredibly lucky to have been born into my family.
Evie prompts me further to talk about my dad and so I tell her all about the first time we went camping and we managed to invite two snakes and some dingos into the camp site, while also managing to offend the local indigenous community by camping where we shouldn’t have. It was a masterclass in what not to do and then how to make amends with respect. Truly an amazing experience for a young kid, to see outside of the farm, watch Dad befriend anyone and laugh about our mishaps with nature. Dad became friends with the local Elders, and we ended up staying for dinner. It was the first time I was considered a man by Dad and sat with the men. It is funny that I have no idea what we said but for me I felt important and equal to Dad. From that day on it was different between me and Dad, in a good way, and we became mates. I opted to not share how we all went traditional hunting the following day, which for a 12-year-old was the coolest thing I had ever done.
Evie listens like she sincerely cares, and asks questions, ponders what that would have been like. She asks about the small things, which is refreshing, like if I was scared sleeping under the stars. It’s like she is trying to picture the memory. She asked about how Dad looks, after checking it was okay to do so, and prompts me, to describe him. It all feels strange but nice, as I’ve not thought of him in such detail. I’ve been scared to talk of him with the reality of losing him and yet now Evie has presented something different to me, to not forget, to bring him forth into my life, so that our relationship continues. I want to focus on how that evolves for me. After a while, silence falls over both of us, my thoughts racing, in a good way. Memories of when I graduated with my trade, Dad was so chuffed, and both Mum and Dad arrived at the worksite in their Sunday best and made a big deal. My boss at the time was in on it, we had a BBQ and a few beers, the boss gave everyone half a day, so the boys were pretty happy with me that day. Then we all went out for dinner to celebrate.
I cherish those times I was, NO, I AM so loved by Dad and Mum. As a man now, I can see that I have been so very lucky. I do want that in my life and to be able to love someone how I have been loved and my own family. What is this right now? This feels good, but what am I thinking, am I ready for this? God, the sensations of her feels good, confusion clearly still here. I look straight at Evie, asking what are we? She shrugs. I usher us to the rug as I don’t want to stop holding her right now. Her in my arms feels like the most natural thing to do right now. I’m lost in my memories. Some I share, some I don’t. We stay on the blanket for a few hours.
I want to ask Evie how she knows about losing someone and yet the pain in her eyes frighten me, holding me back from asking. It’s enough now. I close my eyes and I actually fall asleep, startled awake and no idea how long I’ve been asleep for. Evie is still in my arms. I’m surrounded by her scent, the salty air of the ocean, and thoroughly enjoying th
e feel of our bodies together in embrace, sensing her relaxing into me, the sun tip toeing along our bared skin, the gentle breeze, it all feels like a dream. Evie sits up, folding her arms over my chest and formally asks me to dinner, ever so politely. Watching the words roll out of her mouth, slowly purposeful, tastes so good, while having half of her body pressed into me and her expressing her desire. I feel like a fraud, how can she still want me? What do I have to give to her? I hesitate and she knows. I tell her I’m not sure, fuck. She suggests we don’t think too much. Who is this woman? It feels right but I don’t trust myself right now, I’m all over the shop and not sure what is right thing to do. She feels so damn good under my hands and I nod in agreement. We part ways with a hug that holds time, one that makes my breath stop and then she’s gone. Dread pours over me. I feel like I’m doing something wrong, that we are not in the same place, she wants someone that I can’t be.
HER | Seventeen
“Sam, your father sounds like someone I would have loved to have met. I would really like to learn more about him. From what I have learnt of you so far, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
We both pause while taking my comments and it’s sometime before he says, “Evie, what are we?”
“I’m not sure, I don’t know yet. Whatever we are we need to take it slowly, we both have histories that we are telling to learn to cope with and that takes time. I’m not sure, but I know I feel comfortable with you and want to spend more time with you and see what this is.”
We move to my rug and without words naturally fall into a cuddle. A long time spent in our own thoughts and feelings while the sun nurturing each other’s hurts without words, and we don’t address the fucking giant elephant laying in the sun with us. Instead we talk of Sam’s father and some family memories and it feels so nice learning about them, a supportive family, kind of like the family I wished I had. I love my Mum and Dad, but they both had families separate to me. They did their best and yet I was always on the outside no matter how hard they tried, and then bad things took the rest of what I could have had. I couldn’t trust anyone.
The afternoon is lost. I just want to focus on feeling not thinking, I want to feel this moment, his warmth, his scent pouring out all over my body, sinking into to each other.
After what feels like not long enough, I turn to Sam, asking if he will join me for dinner tonight. I want to cook for him. He looks at me and says, “Evie, I’m still not sure…” Interrupting him, I suggest we just see how things feel, not thinking too much. I drop him at his house and head to the supermarket, where a complete meltdown ensues. “Let’s not think too much?” You fucking nut job! My inner protector is screaming “what the fuck are you doing!”
He is grief stricken. Fear announces its arrival and sets up camp in my brain. It’s like a TV series on rerun. He hurt you! “Let’s not think?!” The dramatic finale he’s still not sure about you and you’re planning a romantic dinner with you for the dessert!
What am I doing?
I scream a little in the car and then scream some more, gripping the streeling wheel. It helps take the edge off. I’m trying to logically think this through, starting the peep talk with a little Buddhist-like chant: “you will NOT sleep with him” over and over, over again! I’m sweating profusely, my inner battle revealing itself clearly now as I attempt to contain the cascade of excitement. I burst into laughter as I know how much of a complete lie this is. I am contemplating buying protection.
Fucking pathetic girl, why can’t I run with what I’ve said? I’m not sure either, why do I have to go with all or nothing? The anxiety monster is trying to bend my will. I want the complete package. My dream. I must acknowledge that my future picture of us is not necessarily his and how can it be fair to expect him to be on the same page, as me, with my needs and wants for a relationship? Why am I already trying to think for him? Sleeping with Sam now would also be the fastest way for me to destroy anything we could have, ruining any opportunity for real intimacy, my unconscious becoming conscious in the honest reflection, almost jarring. Overexposing myself to make me run.
I am already afraid, already fearing his response, playing his thoughts out in my mind. I am ready, trying to control the future, with panic in control. My inner coach rises through the panic. Evie, let the inner thoughts play out, remember they are being fuelled by excitement and the pressure of what might be. It is just dinner with someone who you want as a friend, so just try to be friends. It takes time to come together, grow and work out if this is the right skin for both of us. I need to check my expectations. I need some grounding. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never felt this alive in my skin, this connected to the woman that is inside me and I want her to be released in love, but need to remember that she’s from within me not from an external source. I want to trust. I’m hoping that I am enough and to believe that I am for love. We are all different and I can’t put a script on someone else as well as trying to protect myself. My heart joins the internal debate and fires back at me with ‘uncomfortable and crazy often leads to extraordinary things.’ I need to be vulnerable as well and be willing to fail, be willing to be hurt in order to have the possibility to love someone that I’ve wished for. I need to be not so vulnerable, not so invested to make sure I don’t give all of myself away.
Love is a risk. It is being uncomfortable, vulnerable and accepting the other person in front of you, no matter their baggage or fears. We haven’t even opened my fears yet! I have a tight lid on them, clearly. I am way too ahead of myself. I really like how he feels on me, next to me, his smell, sweaty, salty fresh.
No one has ever made me feel like this before, so if this is not meant to be then, I will enjoy these feelings while they last. I close my eyes, touch my hand over my heart and whisper to myself “I choose to spend as much time in these feelings as I can. Stay in the present.”
I trust me and I trust that if this goes pear shaped, I have the capacity to work with my hurts and overcome. I loved, I received it and gave it to someone. He is all over the shop, as he should be with what has happened to him, and this I understand being at the whim of pain, of unthinkable sadness. He is moving through his pain and I don’t ever want to pressure someone who is vulnerable. I feel such connection with him.
Perhaps I should explain myself, mind you, what would I even say? I remember people telling me all of their opinions on what I should or shouldn’t do and that was not helpful. I’m scared to tell him that I think he needs to focus on family, shouldn’t he? I know it has been some time now, but am I taking advantage of him? Confusion and shit are getting real in my head. Any amount of time with him is worth the potential pain of losing him. What do they say? To love for five minutes can be worth an eternity. Right? Sam showed up and that’s what I want to honour, he risked rejection and was vulnerable, he showed me his pain. For me, that’s a massive display of trust! I have enough hurts that he has yet to see, this theme on repeat in my mind. I realise that I might be hiding behind the all or nothing type cop-out, that by saying you need to be all in, I’m pushing him away, because what does that even look like? There feels like there is more than us at work here. What if I let my guard down like he did? The fear of the thought sends a shudder of cold fear through me. How can I even say that to him? Shit, I’m instantly reminded of my body sensation of him next to me today and how my body feels stretched out next to him and I know that my body will never lie to me, whereas these thoughts and over thinking they lie, lie, and lie…
My own story of survival breaks into my thoughts and convinces me that I want to show up. I wasn’t triggered in his arms and all that touching today felt safe. He feels lovely. I was open, I didn’t run and try to shut it off my feelings. I want to risk it, I want to be loved and hurt because that is how we love, to show up in my truth and allow him to show up in his. In other words, the opening and closing of our hearts. I’ve been so closed, my heart switched off to love. I’ve only ever dated men I could control and predict. I
know that sounds bad, but for me it was about safety. It’s not that I didn’t have feelings for them, just that when it came to an intimacy level, I could control them to a degree. Although nothing’s ever 100 percent, this created a level of control that provided the level of safety for me, allowing me to practice my triggers safely. It all gave me hope that I could love and I could receive care. It was a survival strategy too, in order to have moments of connection and intimacy, while feeling safe behind my caged heart. I have not been triggered with Sam. He feels so safe. I haven’t wanted to run screaming in the other direction, only my mind is coming up with roadblocks attempting to protect me. I have to let go of control, as the focus has been him and not me, which has meant I could sort of hide.
Now I am fighting my own fears and trying to get out of my head. He has shown up and I need to as well, even if that means losing control and allowing someone else to help me to learn to love beyond this concrete caged heart. I have expectations of him to protect me and be there for me. He is telling me honestly that he is not sure. I need to respect his wishes and pull the handbrake on myself. How is it fair that I have expectations on this man? He has a right to his feelings, and they are just as valid as mine, just different, I think. I have run with the whole it is a ‘forever’ relationship and that is not fair! He has a right for it not to be that! It hurts to consider those feelings and try to risk it anyway. Opening yourself up to love increases your fears and my irrational thoughts are showing up to take over. There have only ever been two men before in my life of who I have let go of control. One I knew for an exceptionally long time and another was only a brief encounter, with an equally confident man who I just felt at ease with due to our level of vulnerability and intensity. Our connection was embedded in raw honesty and how we showed a mutual understanding of pain and how our confidence was a survival strategy. We shared moments of vulnerability taking risks in our connection and accepting each other. We both knew it was more about comfort and connection in a loving way, rather than sex…we had connected sex, where vulnerability was accepted and embraced with communication. Perhaps this occurred because we knew we were never going to see each other again. So, we were able to peel back our bullshit, talking of love, of hope, of what feels safe, of our dreams and fears in life. I have treasured these moments because they helped me to learn to trust myself again, in taking a risk to be accepted as me, not what I think I should be. It was two people who came together in their fears and accepted each other while also sharing hope for the possibility of those parts of us being loved in the future.
