Relationship Forensics

They say that when a loved one dies, an important step for those left behind is to view the body. Without doing so, you may never really embrace the reality that this person is gone forever. There is no closure. I never held that belief, for which I’m glad given that my father was killed in a plane crash. After seeing photos of the wreckage, there was no doubt that if I could believe he was inside this aircraft, there was no imagining his survival. An aircraft cabin that is normally six-feet long reduced to something under two and a half feet was all that I needed to see. Multiple blunt trauma due to airplane crash is how the death certificate concisely explained the cause of death. He was gone forever. Our family chose to have his remains cremated, none of us ever seeing the direct evidence of the violent death he had suffered. Collectively we mourned and carried on with our lives.

I think I’m a bit of an existentialist when it comes to such matters. Nothing is permanent, and to search for some greater meaning as to why events unfold as they do can be an exercise in futility. Some outcomes we just have to accept.

In the realm of relationships I think there aren’t enough existentialists, particularly when we search for similar types of closure when faced with symbolic deaths such as failed romances or lost loves. Like some weird version of CSI, we attempt to conduct forensics in order to write up the relationship death certificate and hopefully find someone, or something, to blame.

I’ve had my share of blunt trauma-like deaths in my love life over the years. Some have been acutely defined by hearing that simple phrase: I have met someone else. Many may argue that being in a situation where your partner falls in love with someone else is not trauma as it is indicative of underlying relationship illness that eventually terminated things when a better option came along. You were just in denial. That’s probably true in most cases. But I’ve had at least one experience whereupon sifting for answers from a former partner she said she could hardly believe it herself and thought we had a possible future. That is until Mr. Perfect showed up on her doorstep. Neither of us saw it coming. Almost fifteen years and several kids later, it’s hard to challenge her choice at that time. I’d say it was the right thing for the two of them.

I think those of us looking to break-up with someone actually understand the importance of closure for the non-existentialists out there – even to the point of inventing a someone else in order to get there. The notion of trading up seems to be well understood and even accepted in our society. People deal more easily with the obvious. If that someone else is richer or younger than you, for the most part you’ll accept it. Sure, you may hate them for the decision. You may think they are not taking other things into consideration. But you can rationalize it nonetheless. What people don’t want to hear from you is anything along the lines of I’d rather be alone than be with you, mostly because we equate aloneness with loneliness. And if one is playing second fiddle to loneliness, that sucks.

With slow dying relationships the pathology is different from blunt trauma. First off, such relationships tend to be on life-support for a long time. There is artificiality about the life of the relationship. We live together but the sex ended long ago. We never share any fun anymore. Usually, one of you wants to pull the plug, while the other hangs on looking for a miracle. It almost becomes a debate about the definition as to when the relationship no longer exists. For some, any sign of life needs to be nurtured; for others, there is no more life when all we have left are a few brainwaves and a weak heartbeat.

Maybe we haven’t found a way to have these slow dying relationships end with a sense of dignity. We need to come up with a palliative care solution for these cases. I have done the “let’s remain friends” route in some of these situations but it’s a delicate act to balance and it takes both individuals to agree that the chance for renewing the romance is dead. However, all too often someone shows up with a vintage bottle of wine or concert tickets to your favourite band – the metaphorical equivalent to defibrillator paddles – in order to resuscitate the romance. Once again, the relationship goes on life-support.

As for those blunt trauma relationship deaths I’ve had, I will admit there has been one occasion that one could say I found closure by seeing the body. It was about three weeks following a break-up for which there were hints there was someone new in her life. Returning home from a late night at a friend’s place practically next door to my former girlfriend’s, I found my closure. The body was in the form of an unknown late model Honda parked in her driveway that caught my attention as I strolled past. Underneath it, a dark stain of oil -- a testament to my car’s legacy in that same spot. I only had to see this once to understand. I had no desire to repeat the experience. Stalking, like obsessively viewing a dead body, is not about closure but about something much darker. I was happy I didn't want to know any more. When I got home, I put on a Billie Holiday CD and poured myself a Scotch, symbolically signing the death certificate.