Kazumi never listened to my advice, except maybe when our relationship started and I told her not to take all of the sleeping pills she was taking. Whenever I tried to give her advice, she would say that I was trying to control her, tell her what to do, not being compassionate, etc. So I stopped giving advice. To be honest, the advice that I did give her was not that great. It was fairly superficial, and filled with a lot of psycho-babble. I remember trying to tell her how to handle her stress better and saying that she should just step back, breathe deeply and consider her options. That might work for daily stress issues, but I think Kazumi's underlying issue was that relatively minor stress issues would trigger a severe anxiety response that reminded her of losing her father as a child. I tried a few times to discuss this with her, and we broached the topic during our couples counseling, but we never really had a heart-to-heart talk about it. So I'm just going to say now.

I understand how pedantic my advice must have seemed to her. "Just consider your options." Well, how many options are available for a 10 year old girl who has lost her father? One. Acceptance. There was nothing she could do to bring her father back. I remember how awful it was to think about losing my parents even though they weren't even sick. I was kind a strange kid in that I forced myself to think about things like that... I remember one particular time when my father stayed home with me because I was sick, but then he decided to go to work and leave me home by myself. I remember crying so hard, seeing my father leave, even though I was fully aware that he was coming back in a few hours, I just wanted to spend more time with my dad. But to consider that your dad might not come home, and then to have it happen is unthinkable for a 10 year old daughter. And from everything that I know, Kazumi's father was very much actively involved in her life. He was not a distant, aloof, father who worked 12 hours a day. He was one who enjoyed life, lived life, and loved his family. I'm sure he was Kazumi's hero. And to lose a loving father at such a tender age is something I can't really imagine. Though she never talked about it, I think Kazumi must have gone through some pretty severe separation anxiety issues. It may have been the most formative negative period of her life - the period that she goes back to when she has negative thoughts, when she expects the worst, when she feels that she has no control over her life. I think that is the state of mind she is in when we break up; When I didn't show up at the airport, for example, she was thinking maybe of the time that her father didn't come home from the hospital. She knew we broke up 3 weeks prior. She knew her father had cancer. But the final moment of absolute certainty hadn't come yet in her mind. She needed a moment to being the acceptance. And acceptance doesn't come at once. It comes in bits and pieces. And even when acceptance is complete, the pain doesn't end. Accepting that your father is not coming back does not relieve the pain. It drags on over the years. It becomes submerged, hardened, black like charcoal. And like charcoal, it has the potential to be transformed. It can be ignited into a hot flame, then reduced to gray ashes. Or it can be compressed under great pressure into a jewel. It is a remarkable thing - emotion. I don't know if there is a way to quantify it, but I suspect that emotion is as much a physical entity as mass or energy. It can be manifest in myriad forms. It can be transformed or transmitted. It is always there, always has been and always will be. The total amount in the universe is constant. Some have more than others. Kazumi has more than most. In a sense, her pain is a gift.

Lumi punched me in the eye. I think she scratched it. I may have to go to the doctor...