I suppose I may as well let you know what happened: I got drenched.

Crying all day yesterday helped keep me composed. I couldn't go over for his good-bye party, since there was no way I was going to show up with red puffy eyes in front of his family, but I went over when everyone left.

He had told me Sunday how much more difficult it was for him, how guilty he felt for leaving when people were crying. His grandma, his mom...I didn't want to cry in front of him. I didn't want to make it any harder for him. I couldn't help it. I didn't bawl, at least. Not in front of him. I have, and I will, but not so he could see.

We didn't talk long, only about twenty minutes, and a lot of that was silence. But I told him how much he meant to me, and I was happy I had had the little time we had together, and wished him happiness in the future.

I didn't get a whole lot in return. It's not the point, I know, but I think he is so wrapped up in trying to seal himself up emotionally, he wasn't able to offer much comfort to me. I do understand, I do. In fact, I told him it's what he needs to do, to a degree. But not me! But I understand why. What he's been going through - he needs to let go of a lot of it. But all I really wanted was a sign that I had at least brought him a little bit of happiness. That I meant a little something more, like he means to me.

I gave him a CD...one of our first conversations was about this CD. I was playing it while I was planting my flowers (the day they actually moved into the house), and he stopped to say hi - this was the day after my limestone wall debacle and the day after I met him. I told him what it was, and he smiled, a real one, something I haven't seen much of. He held me and he kissed my hand and he turned and walked out of my life. He's not ready for me. I don't know that he ever will be. And it hurts so much, because I was ready for him.