Peaceful Emptiness: Finding Closure After 20 Years

     Closure is a funny thing. You can be looking for it for nearly 20 years and somehow still not be ready for it when you get it. As I sit here releasing all of these thoughts, that’s what I am dealing with.
     Closure can be cathartic. It can signify the end of an important chapter in your life. It can trigger the release of strong pent-up emotions. That’s where I’m at now.
     Less than 24 hours ago from when I am writing this, I got the most important closure I had been looking for. It is not the exact picture-perfect type of closure I might have desired, but after years of nothing, it was something I needed. Bear with me as this is something I’ve wanted to write for almost 20 years.

Chapter 1: At First Sight

    In order to understand why this closure is so important, I need to take you back to the beginning. Let’s go back to the first week of June 2004. 21 years ago this past week.
    I was introduced to a girl. We’ll call her Gwen. I had no idea that she would end up being one of the most important people to ever grace my life.
    On the day I met Gwen, I remember telling a friend that I was done with love and relationships. I said that if love wanted me, it was going to have to kick down the door and whack me over the head with a club. Only a few hours after saying that, the club had crashed down on my head.
    I had been in the throes of a terrible bout of depression at the time I met Gwen. She was a gorgeous Hispanic girl with dark brown eyes and black curly hair. When she smiled, her eyes squinted in the cutest way. When she spoke in her soft, almost breathy voice, I had to grab a chair to keep my shaking legs from giving way.
    I felt inadequate and unworthy. Gwen made me feel like I was good enough. She single-handedly pulled me free of the chains of depression and squashed those feelings of inadequacy. That being said, I still kept my guard up. I typically believe that if something seems too good to be true, it usually is. After our 3rd date, I let my guard down. Then things got real.
    I let the feelings free. I was crazy for this girl, and my world suddenly seemed like it made sense. Everything I had gone through leading up to the day I met Gwen was paying the toll to cross the bridge. Then the hammer dropped.

    Gwen didn’t live where I did year-round. She worked for a family as a nanny who spent half the year on Cape Cod and the other half in New Orleans, Louisiana. She was into me, and I was into her, so we enjoyed every moment of the summer and figured we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.
    I became so attached to Gwen. I couldn’t imagine my life without her, or remember my life before her. That’s the forever type of feeling. I was 26 at the time, she was 22, but in my mind, I could see this being a long-term relationship. What about the impending return to New Orleans?
    As the days ticked down to the first week of October and her leaving Cape Cod for half a year, I started to formulate a plan for her return. I declared my intentions. I told her that someday I wanted to marry her.
    That’s a big declaration. She was a bit taken aback, but I made sure to tell her I didn’t mean today, or even next year, just someday. To prove it, I even gave her a sort of placeholder ring. Not anything expensive, but a gesture of the weight of my words. Gwen had changed my life so completely. A person like that is not someone you let get away.
    We made promises to stay connected through the winter. We knew that come April, she’d be back and we could hopefully pick up where we left off. October came, and Gwen departed Cape Cod. She would never return.

Chapter 2: The Distance

    The first few weeks went well. We stayed in touch, and at times it was like she was just away on a trip. Then the calls and texts got fewer. Gwen worked full-time as a nanny, so I understood that she didn’t always have time to answer her phone. I knew that we just had to navigate these waters and we’d come out the other side stronger than ever.
    The hammer dropped on those dreams. Gwen let me know that the husband and wife she was working for had decided to get divorced. In short, this meant that returning to Cape Cod with them in April was off the table. I was devastated and desperate. I meant all that I had said to her and now I needed to prove it.
    First, I got time off from work and set up a trip down to New Orleans in January. It would be the first time I had seen Gwen in four months. Her mother would tell me in a letter later that Gwen was overcome with emotion seeing just how far I was willing to go to see her. She knew I really loved her.
    Looking back, the trip to New Orleans was our last hurrah, but at the time, I didn’t know that. We had fun and reconnected, and I got to meet and spend time with her family. I specifically remember Gwen’s youngest sister gifting me a pair of heart-shaped Mardi Gras beads.
    I felt like they accepted me. I even started trying to learn Spanish so I could better communicate with Gwen’s parents, who spoke very little English. Gwen felt like home to me so in my mind, wherever she was, needed to be my home.
    While driving around downtown New Orleans, I told Gwen of my plan to move to New Orleans. She was shocked. I explained my reasoning, but the most I got out of her was that it was a big city and she couldn’t stop me if that was what I wanted. The distance between us for those months could not be overcome in four days. In fact, it was only on my last day in New Orleans that it felt like it had on Cape Cod.
    We parted ways at the airport. I remained steadfast in my plans to return to New Orleans. For her part, I think Gwen could have gone either way. If I never returned, she’d be okay. If I moved there, she’d plan accordingly.

    I think deep down, I knew that was it. While driving home from Providence, the song Sunday Morning by Maroon 5 came on the radio. It was a song Gwen and I had sung together often. The lyric that broke me was “I would gladly hit the road, get up and go if I knew.
    That someday it would lead me back to you.” I cried so hard while driving on the highway that I eventually needed to pull into a rest area to collect myself.
    I figured things could go one of two ways. Either it was over, and I'd try to put my life back together without the person who had changed it more than nearly anyone. Or I followed through with my plan to move to New Orleans and let the chips fall where they may. I chose Option 2.
    I began setting up plans to move. I began scoping out apartments in and around New Orleans. I also started sending feelers out for potential jobs. The one that I was closest to accepting was working at an art gallery. I can’t remember what exactly I was going to be doing but I’d be in the art world, which was good for my hopeful photography or writing dreams.
    Although I hadn’t accepted any jobs or put any money down on any apartments, the wheels were in motion. All I had to do was tell my job on Cape Cod that I was leaving and that would be it. Then fate intervened.
    I was likely only a few weeks from making the move when Gwen ended it. She told me that things were going too fast and that she was too young and not ready for the step I was planning. She said some things that crushed me. Basically, she felt like what we had was a fun little fling, and that the time had passed. At that moment, I was hurt, confused, and angry. Looking back now, I see her side more clearly.
    I loved Gwen. She had pulled me from a deep depression just by stepping into my life. That being said, she didn’t ask to be my savior and that had to be a pressure that she wasn’t ready for. If things had gone to plan, where she returned to Cape Cod that April and we picked up where we left off, I think we would have had a good chance of making it. Life is never a single straight line though.

Chapter 3: Fading Away

    Our time as a couple was over. The calls, the texts, the poetry I wrote, it all ended. I tried, and failed, to get over Gwen. I was floating in a sea of sadness during that summer. Then life threw one of those curves.
    Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans in August 2005. I saw the videos and was horrified. All I thought about was Gwen and her family and hoping that they were okay. I had to bridge the gap. I made the call to check on her.
    Her family was safe. They had relocated to Houston, Texas. Gwen and I reconnected. We didn’t talk every day like we used to, but it was at least a few times a week. Keeping the lines of communication open with her was a blessing and a curse.
    I felt that as long as we talked, there was always a chance of getting back together. After the hurricane, I wasn’t sure if Gwen’s family was to permanently stay in Houston. Maybe they’d move somewhere else? Maybe somewhere closer? Or maybe I’d plan another move and follow through?

    Within a few weeks of Hurricane Katrina, I was on the move from Cape Cod to Southern Florida. I kept Gwen in the loop with my plans to drive more than 1,500 miles from Cape Cod to Fort Lauderdale by myself in my blue Saturn Ion. At the very least, with me in Florida, she and I would be about a 17-hour drive apart. This was about 13 hours less than if I were driving to Houston from Cape Cod. I kept running on faith that we were meant to be together.
    My time in Florida was short. Hurricane Wilma thrashed the state about a month after I arrived. All of my job interviews were gone. Soon enough, my money was too. I knew I needed to punt on this journey and go back to Cape Cod to start again. It ended up being a fun story but a failure of a life change.
    As for Gwen, things kept changing. In the time since she had left Cape Cod, she had gotten very, very deep into religion. I don’t know if she was always that way and I pulled her away from it while we were together. Maybe so. All I know is that it became an insurmountable obstacle.
    I wanted Gwen to remain in my life. If I truly had meant all I said about her I’d be a hypocrite if I cut her off because we no longer were a couple. It was a double-edged sword. Every time we’d talk, I’d hear her voice, and it was like a visceral reaction. I’d remember all we said and did, and I’d want it all again. However, there was one thing I hadn’t counted on.
    She began talking about dating others. It was a gut punch. Looking back now of course Gwen would have no shortage of suitors. She was all of the things I had said and believed. Men would be falling all over themselves to be with her. I just wasn’t ready to hear that.
    I was angry, hurt, and confused again. What about me? I was good enough at one point, but now I was only good enough to be her sounding board about other men she was with. I loved her, but I couldn’t take it.
    Our calls and texts became fewer and fewer until one day they stopped, forever. I don’t remember who was last to reach out to the other. I don’t know if she called and I didn’t respond or vice versa. All I do know is that Gwen was out of my life.
    From the day we first met to the day of our last interaction, it had been two years at most. She had gone from a stranger to the most important part of my life, and back to a stranger in the blink of an eye. It was over, for now.

Chapter 4: The Search

    To cope with the end of an important relationship, I dove headlong into my writing. The first short story I wrote was actually a semi-biographical tale of my relationship with Gwen. I even called her Gwen in the story.
    Those short stories led to ebooks on Amazon. This led to my own website, a travel blog, and eventually a book deal. As much as I tried to forget Gwen, she was a huge part of my life still, as my writing career truly began as a way to deal with losing her. To this day, all of my writing and content work I do is connected to her.

    Years passed. I looked for love and failed at every turn. I was chasing the feeling that Gwen had given me. It felt like nobody measured up, or that I’d never even give them a chance to. It was sometime in early 2010 that I first tried to reconnect with her.
    I didn’t have her address. Her phone number had changed. She was nowhere to be found on social media. The only connection I had was her youngest sister, and she was not interested in helping me bridge that gap. To be fair, it wasn’t her job to reconnect her sister to an ex-boyfriend. Still, at the time, I was angry. She was my only hope, and it was dashed.
    More years passed. I met a few people. I even had a relationship that, for a time, made me forget about Gwen. However, once that one ended, I again began the search.
    By 2016, I learned that Gwen had gotten married and still lived around the Houston area. She still wasn’t on social media so all I had was the most minimal of information. I would get frustrated and then mad at myself. If I had just kept in touch even through her dating others who knows where we’d be?
    Time kept moving on. I battled alcohol issues. I dealt with the deaths of several loved ones. I kept my head down and worked on my writing, which as of today is 9 published books. I also buried myself in content creation, including a podcast. I was trying to fill every nook and cranny of my life so that I didn’t have time to think about things like relationships.
    In 2022, I tried to connect with Gwen again. I knew her 40th birthday was coming up and wanted to at least wish her a happy birthday. I mentioned to her sister about Gwen’s birthday. She never responded so I left it alone. I’d share things on social media that were vague and/or cryptic. I knew Gwen would never see it, but it soothed my heart briefly.
    This pattern continued over the next few years. Birthdays, anniversaries of our first date, I’d post something to keep that memory alive. I created a Spotify playlist with songs we used to listen to. Even if she wasn’t there, Gwen’s memory would make me smile.

    I pride myself on being great a research. I’m an excellent Internet detective, for what that’s worth. Still, despite my best efforts, I could not locate Gwen. I refused to do any people searches. I didn’t want to invade her life in such a way. I had to use my detective skills, which always led to dead ends. I had her name and roughly where she lived. I’m sure if I’d have paid, I’d have gotten what I wanted. But if I truly had loved Gwen, if I truly respected her and wanted her to be happy, I couldn’t cross that line. I’d never be able to live with myself.
    June 2024 marked 20 years since Gwen had blown up my life like the most beautiful tornado. It was another chance to reconnect. I again asked her sister to please pass along my email and phone number. I said Gwen didn’t have to use them, but if she ever wanted to reconnect, she could. Her sister said she couldn’t do it. Out of respect for Gwen’s husband, she didn’t want to give an ex-boyfriend’s contact info to her.
    I felt sad and defeated. Yet I understood. I told her sister that I would leave it alone. Out of love and respect for Gwen, I would let the past be the past. The search had to be called off.

Chapter 5: Closure

    I began to look back on things more pragmatically. I started asking bigger picture questions like ‘Why?’ Why had Gwen come into my life? What was the lesson I was supposed to have learned?
    I had loved her hard. I had loved her more intensely and deeply than anybody. I had chased those feelings and looked for them in others, only to find that it was something that couldn’t be so easily replicated.
    Gwen had become a ghost. I could never see her but I felt her in every facet of my being. She had left such a mark on me that I ended up stopping my search for a relationship with someone else because I knew they wouldn’t be Gwen. But what did I learn?

    The main thing I learned, which took me a long time to see, was that Gwen had shown me that I could be loved in a real way and do so by being a 100% authentic version of myself. I’ve felt in every other circumstance that I’ve altered something about myself to try to fit someone else’s idea of a relationship. If I could find a love like that once, then surely I could find it again, even if it took much longer than I wanted.
    The other thing that I was having trouble accepting was the fact that I was never going to get closure. My closure was not getting closure and having to deal with it. I hated that. I hated that I’d never know more about Gwen than the fact that she was married, didn’t have any kids, and lived near Houston. But it was all I was going to get, or so I thought.

    Here we go back to the beginning. Less than 24 hours from when I’m writing this, I got what I didn’t expect. I got closure. How?
    This week is the anniversary of when Gwen and I first met. I am always deep in my feels, remembering what she meant to me. It is easier to go back to that place because I was smart enough to keep a journal of our relationship. I can flip through the pages and it’s like she’s here with me again.
    I took the journal and parked in a secluded area of a beach parking lot. My windows were down, it was a perfect afternoon. I started from the beginning, making sure to soak in every word I’d written. It was different reading the words I’d written at 26-27 now in my late 40s. I had a different view of life and could see the issues I brought to the relationship.
    Don’t get me wrong, I was still looking for things I could have done to save the relationship, but when the last journal entry was finished with a period, all I could do was smile.
    I closed the notebook and stared out toward the beach. I said out loud in my car, “I want to find her. Or I want her to find me.”
    Many times I have stated this. I had put it into the universe that I wanted Gwen and I to somehow reconnect. It never happened and this time I figured it would be more of the same. Things changed a few hours later.
    I sat in my chair, looking at the laptop I’m writing this on. For kicks, I typed in Gwen’s name and town, like I had done many times before without success. I found something. There was someone with the same first name, same middle initial, same age, same town, but with a different last name. Could this be her?
    My heart began fluttering as I clicked the link to a Facebook page. What I saw knocked me for a loop. There was Gwen and her husband, they shared a page. I clicked their profile picture and saw her face for the first time in 20 years. I smiled and said, “I found you.”

    Gwen and her husband run a church in the Houston area. Their shared account is all about their religious teachings. It turns out her deep dive into religion at the end of our relationship was her true calling.
    I scrolled through the posts and photos. Over and over, I saw comments from the parishioners thanking Gwen and her husband for all of the positive impact they have made in so many people’s lives. I watched videos of Gwen giving sermons, all in Spanish, but still. It was what she was meant to do and meant to be.
    I saw the photos of Gwen with her husband. They looked happy. She looked happy. She looked as beautiful as the first day I laid eyes on her. Just as I am a far different person than when I first met her, I could tell Gwen was far different as well. In the end, I was happy for her.
    

    So what of my closure? I now have ways to contact Gwen, yet I feel no desire to. Is that strange? I searched for her for so many years and now that I’ve found her, I feel more compelled to stay in the background as only an observer.
    What good could come from my reaching out? The Facebook page is for both Gwen and her husband. Am I going to send a message spilling my guts? They also give the address of their church. Again, am I really going to write a letter condensing everything I’ve written here into a page or two?
    I don’t want to tarnish what we had. I don’t want to cause damage to Gwen’s life by revealing my truth. What would it matter? I got what I needed. I needed to see her with my own eyes. I needed to know how she was, what she was doing, and most of all know that she was happy and fulfilled.
    Gwen and I are two different people living two different lives. In the best-case scenario, one of us would have to totally alter ourselves to fit in the other’s world. I am not willing to do that, and I wouldn’t want her to do that for me. My writing career and her religious teachings are what we were meant to do. I don’t think I had a hand in helping her get to where she is, but I do know she had a major hand in getting me here.

    In the end, where does this all leave me? Once I closed the Facebook page, I felt a mix of peace and emptiness. I had been chasing Gwen for so long, and having finally found her I feel like there is a big space I need to fill with something else. I’ve been filled with content and writing work so I don’t think more of that is the answer. Maybe I’ll give a relationship a more serious try.
    As time passes, I will likely check in on Gwen. I will look at her Facebook page, and her church website, and maybe see if she’s on other social media platforms. Contacting her? Right now, that’s a ‘no.’ Out of respect for Gwen and respect for her sister, whom I had told I wouldn’t pursue her, I need to keep my word. However, if someday I open her page and it’s no longer both Gwen and her husband, then all bets are off.
    I feel strange not having that monkey on my back of needing to find Gwen. It was there so long that it’s hard to imagine life without it. After so, so long, I got the closure that seemed like I’d never get. I see how happy Gwen is, how fulfilled she is, and that’s all I want for her. Sure, I’d love to tell her all about where my road has taken me, and maybe someday that will happen. For right now, though, I’ll end this by saying thank you, Gwen, for coming into my life, for changing me more than you’ll ever know, and I kept the promise you made me make, I never forgot you.