Well, this evening I went out to the rental cottage to attach an outlet cover, a small detail that had been lingering for years due to not having the correct length of screws.
This dead outlet happened to be adjacent to the still-mounted eyebolts I used years ago to attach the Christmas present I got N in, I'd guess, 2007, which was a yoga swing like the one her mentor put me in at the studio where she was teaching at the time, Yogasita San Francisco.
Just one of those things I did to try to make her feel welcome, to help her to feel that this place was her home.
Anyway, I looked up at those eyebolts, which are still there because it was a lot of work to put them up and I expoxied them in place and it would be a major pain in the ass to pull them down, and I remembered how toward the end the room got so cluttered with my office crap that I don't think she ever even went back there any more to use it. When she moved out, she offered it to me, but I told her emphatically that I wanted her to keep it.
Really symbolic to me right now of my failed attempt(s) to connect with her, of how great I wanted things to be for us and how grubby they wound up being in the last year.
Man it hurts to write this; the idea is as always to get catharsis. Write it out, cry it out.