P has been on my mind yet again - this time after the longest hiatus ever. I want to believe that coincided with the phase of my life when I felt most free, as close as I could ever come to what I imagined would be possible for me. Nowhere close to my dreams or even a replica or it but a kintsugi of sorts. But I was overjoyed to feel the ocean breeze on my face, jumping the waves, gliding over them like I never knew to before.
For a while, everything was in its place, there was order and harmony for a bit - all the things that had been forever lacking or missing for me. Then I recalled P yet again. That last time I called - ever remembering what I had worn that afternoon. It was a pale yellow hakoba net outfit - a color as mournful as I felt hearing the hollowness of his voice, drained of all feeling just accepting the conditions I had laid out without question or protest. I replayed those few minutes in my head so many times in years to come - and came up with different ways to explain to myself what had happened. None provided satisfying because P was not there to speak for himself - just as he had not been there in spirit that fateful day I called him.
Watching Three Of Us took me back to the times of P so long ago that it could be all in my imagination. The woman in the story is losing her memory and she wants to go back to the place that was the most significant in her life almost as it to check if she still has pulse. Things are where they are meant to be including some people from that time including the one she really need to see - to apologize, shed tears together, say a real goodbye. I told my friend S who goes back to the times of P and knew him well. She suggested that I wait some more for closure because this warrants a bigger life event - something that neutralizes everything For the woman in the movie that was dementia.
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