Leaving That Bridge Burned

I was really tempted to send Nina a text message today. Actually, I was tempted to send her a birthday text message in late August, but I didn’t. I didn’t realize until mid-September that her birthday had actually occurred weeks earlier. Regardless of the reason for my lack of action, that text message was never written and it was never sent.

She and I, in briefly rekindling communication in the summer of 2023, over 20 years after we had broken up, again ended on lousy terms. I think I sent her a text message last Christmas, which interestingly enough, was not reciprocated. I would end up deleting her from my phone in January, with the intent to never reach out to her again. Thus far, I’ve held myself to that self-made promise.

Now, far be it for me to talk down to someone or poke fun at how their life turned out, but for all intents and purposes, Nina is a mess.  I don’t think she’s a terrible person, but life had definitely tossed her a few lemons and neglected to give her the hands or dexterity to catch them.

For about two years of my young adult life, she was my world. Sure, we had our challenges, but even today, I wouldn’t label her as a bad person. The years since we parted ways looked to have been a struggle for her, at least, according to what she told me as we were catching up last year. I hate to think that she was lying or even embellishing at the time and I want to say that she was being truthful.

Around the time of the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020 and its related lock-down, she suffered not one, but two strokes. She could have been dead after the first one, I would imagine, but apparently, she continued to live long enough to suffer a second one.  She has some other health issues, none of which I can recall, but physically, she looked decent. Whatever damage those two strokes did to her was not immediately visible or evident.  She didn’t have the facial paralysis or slurred speech that sometimes comes in the aftermath of a stroke.

Her mother is still alive. She had suffered an aneurysm years before Nina and I started dating. She was blind in one eye, though she didn’t allow her limited vision to keep her from operating a motor vehicle. Her mother’s car had all the dents and scrapes to clearly illustrate that her driving skills were indeed compromised. I don’t know how much time her mother has left, but Nina continues to serve as her primary caregiver. Her mother was a decent enough person and from what I recall, she loved me.  She had always maintained hope that Nina and I would have gotten married, but in the end, it never happened. Even as I think about it now as I write this, I don’t know what kind of wife Nina would have been. She was very jealous and I don’t know how I would have been able to live with that.

Years after we split, Nina’s “uncle” was discovered to have been a pedophile. That surprised me. Her uncle seemed like a good enough guy, respectful and everything. I guess we can’t always pick out the pedophiles from the crowd.  If it matters, he didn’t have “that” look, whatever said look might be.

Nina was a brief footnote in my life, but still someone who I will always think about, every now and again anyway. Now, should she be struck by a third stroke, I don’t know if she pulls through and lives to pray against a fourth. Still, all I can do is wish her the best and hope that she doesn’t die anytime soon.

August 25. That’s when her birthday is, I think?  I don’t even know anymore.  It’s really not that important.