• Demons of Oblivion
    • Bloodlines
    • Hunter
    • Lineage
    • Exhumed
    • Oblivion
    • Novellas, Shorts, & Collections
  • River Wolfe
    • River
    • Rebellion
    • How the Werewolf Stole Christmas
    • Wolfe
  • Livi Talbot
    • Solomon’s Seal
    • Odin’s Spear
    • Ashford’s Ghost
    • Emperor’s Tomb
    • Shiva’s Bow
    • Yampellec’s Idol
    • Charon’s Gold
  • Elis O’Connor
    • Blood Ties
    • Witch Hunt
    • Soul Spell
    • Hell Fire
    • Demon Fall
    • Season of the Bitch
  • Waverly Jones Mysteries
    • The Killing Beach
    • A Wild Kind of Darkness
    • Alone at Night
    • Silent All These Years
    • A Dark and Distant Home
  • Standalone
    • The Silent Places
    • Dweller on the Threshold
    • Watcher of the Woods
    • The Taiga Ridge Murders
  • Boxsets
    • Hauntings: Two Tales of the Paranormal
  • Audio
  • Sales

Skyla Dawn Cameron

My characters kill people so I don't have to.

  • Books
    • Demons of Oblivion
    • River Wolfe
    • Livi Talbot
    • Elis O’Connor
    • Waverly Jones
    • Standalone Books
    • Boxsets & Bundles
    • Content Warnings
  • Skyla
    • Newsletter
    • FAQs
    • Skyla’s Home for Wayward Strays
      • Sponsor a Cat
  • Blog
    • Soundtrack Sunday Overview
    • Comment Policy
    • Evil Writer Blog Posts
    • Evil Writer Blog Posts – Old Site
  • Patronage
  • Shop Books
    • eBooks Direct
    • Deals/Sales
  • Upcoming
  • Hire Skyla
You are here: Home / blog / Forty-Year-Old Heartbreak

January 31, 2016 By Skyla Dawn Cameron Leave a Comment

Forty-Year-Old Heartbreak

photo (38)One day, when you’re receiving the deceased’s personal effects, dismantling a life box by box, you’re handed a pile of stuffed manila envelopes to do with what you will. Letters, cards, and photos of old lovers. One stands out, marked with “Memories – R. <3” and, at first glance, yes, the contents seem to be from someone named “R____”

But it’s something else that catches your eye.

An old-fashioned cardstock framed photo, the school class kind, and this doesn’t look like the “R” from the rest of the photos and letters. With the pictures are old newspaper cartoon cutouts about love along with three letters in envelopes.

It’s voyeuristic to look, but it was left in your care, so you give it a quick once over.

The first two envelopes and letters are old but smooth, dated July ’73. Nothing overtly personal, just catching up over the summer, but end with a boy promising his love forever.

Then there’s the third.

The envelope and letter within have been crumpled, probably repeatedly, and only smooth and crisp now because they’ve been tucked away for forty years between two flat surfaces. It’s a brief letter dated Aug ’73, tone shifted from friendly to short, revealing it will be the last one because the writer has gotten engaged to another girl.

The final line is “I know I’ve been unfaithful and I hope someday you may forgive me.”

The pieces slide together then–you remember this story of the boy she loved, who couldn’t wait when they were apart for a few months and cheated on her, and how that betrayal changed everything. She relayed it when you couldn’t see through the cloud of grief and rage at having been betrayed by a boy yourself, a moment of understanding.

And now you hold a tangible piece of that, forty-year-old heartbreak.

*

I talk a lot about death now (I’m really fun at parties).

Unsurprising, I guess, not only because I write about death a lot, but I’m a very depressed person for whom suicidal thoughts have been a recurrence for twenty years. But losing people you’ve grown up, whose constant support has always been there, drives one’s mortality home even after living with it for all these years.

Especially when you’re holding a piece of someone’s life in your hands, even in the form of a crumpled letter. Something that was cried over, hated, probably tossed out, but later retrieved and kept. For forty-two years.

The same time I was writing this blog post, I was messaging with a writer friend who knew Aunt Judy. She mentioned how she ended up with her friend’s old journals when the woman passed, and how periodically she’d have dreams about her. Each time she’d pull out a journal, stop when she felt compelled to, and what she read left her feeling like her friend was there speaking to her again.

Maybe it’s the benzos talking, but I felt something, holding this little pile of tucked away treasures no one other than their owner held for many years. Some resonance, some message even if it hasn’t quite clicked yet. People break our hearts, and part of us holds onto that for the remainder of our lives, and then we’re gone and someone else is left pondering the pieces remaining.

In the movie version, this is when the music swells and the heroine has her epiphany, rushes outside, and runs to the hero’s house–probably in the rain although her makeup is still pristine–and “Something I Need” plays along with her confession about how life is short and this is what she wants, then they kiss and the credits roll–

Practical MagicExcept in real life, the heroine has only spoken to the hero for ten minutes and is pretty sure he doesn’t remember her name, and if she heads out in this weather, she’ll probably freeze to death anyway. There’s no movie, no soundtrack, no sudden chill as if a message is being passed between the living and the dead, no meaning but what I bring to it.

I wish I could ask her if she ever did forgive him.

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: life, personal

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

In Memory of Gus

Become a Patron!

Buy My Books

Kobo | Kindle | Smashwords (or try here | iBooks | Payhip | Find Paperbacks & Hardcovers at Amazon
Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Books in Progress

40000 / 65000 words. 61% done!
Demon Fall

113233 / 113233 words. 100% done!
Beneath the Pines

20000 / 100000 words. 20% done!
These Haunted Woods

Meta

  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.org

Recent Comments

  • Buy Your Paperbacks Directly From Me – Michael W Lucas on It’s Done
  • CRussel on Torching Kindle (and Probably My Career, YOLO)
  • Anna Blake on Torching Kindle (and Probably My Career, YOLO)
  • Martha Hubbard on Torching Kindle (and Probably My Career, YOLO)
  • Paula on Audiobook (Initial) Release: DWELLER ON THE THRESHOLD
  • Skyla Dawn Cameron on Audiobook (Initial) Release: DWELLER ON THE THRESHOLD
  • Melissa Hayden on Audiobook (Initial) Release: DWELLER ON THE THRESHOLD
  • Anna Blake on Nothing to Say (That Isn’t Incoherent Screaming)
  • Skyla Dawn Cameron on Soundtrack Sunday – THE TAIGA RIDGE MURDERS
  • Kerry on Soundtrack Sunday – THE TAIGA RIDGE MURDERS

MEET SKYLA DAWN

Writer of urban fantasy, thrillers/mysteries, and horror.
Fifth-generation crazy cat lady. Bitchy feminist.
So tired all the goddamn time.

My characters kill people so I don’t have to.

read more

Become a Patron!

Socials

  • Amazon
  • Bluesky
  • Email
  • Etsy
  • Facebook
  • Reddit
  • Twitter

What I’m Working On:

Writing Elis 5. Also kind of sort of writing Waverly 8.

I'm not inclined to resign to maturity.