People talk about "closure" like it's some goal or direct action you take to put something behind you such that you're able to "move on" with your life in some regard. Closure.
About this time last year someone I had thought was my friend severed our relationship via email . . . the internet equivalent of a text-message break-up I suppose. Do I miss our "friendship"? No, not really. As I've only told our mutual friends when they asked about her last summer, she had made up her mind about me long ago and chose to believe the worst rather than talk to me. She severed the tie, I was more than willing to take all blame for the "final straw" and truthfully I was tired of having conversations with our common acquaintances that always started with "Did you see Jackie when she was in town this past weekend?" and for which my answer was almost always an awkward "No, she didn't mention she'd be here."
I DO regret not having the opportunity to slash her tires or something equally trite (but gratifying). I always kind of thought if I did run into her again I'd be sorely tempted to do something foolish (but also equally gratifying despite the assault charges) like (accidentally) ripping her hair out while bringing her nose to (accidentally) meet my fist.
Interestingly enough, she was (I think) in town this weekend for a) her mother's birthday, and b) Apple Blossom/family reunion. Her father typically rides in the parades and on Friday when I spotted him I was so busy talking to my sister about how much older he looks since last year, that frankly I never even looked at anyone else in the car. It wasn't until the car was just pulling past our sitting area that I realized there was a head turned away from our side of the street sporting a familiar style and hair color (a blend of about 2 shades of red and a touch of brown; she called it Power Red, as if strength of character could be found in a bottle of dye--in truth she's a dishwater blonde).
And I felt nothing (except slightly pleased that had that been her, she was still too much of a coward to look at me). The red-head was just some random person in a parade car.
I guess I didn't need "closure" afterall, it just somehow happened and I didn't notice.
(. . . though it would be really, really great if Karma could somehow put her on the schedule, maybe throw in a couple flat tires, too . . .)
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