Dear Cary - Dyan Cannon [129]
It was a perfect moment, and probably the most romantic moment of my life.
So in love was I. So in love were we.
So what happened, Cary? What happened to that great love of ours? It was real. It was right. It was real right. Then it went wrong. Real wrong.
The falling in love was easy. But the living in love was another matter. It always is, isn’t it?
I know there are two sides to every story. For my part, I was so afraid of losing you that I lost you. Then I lost me in trying so hard not to lose you. Crazy stuff . . . born of my immaturity and just plain lack of confidence. I honestly think I expected you to make me happy . . . an impossible task for any man. But after all, you were “Cary Grant.” What I’ve come to understand, though, is that you were far more than a “Cary Grant.” You were flesh and blood: a warm, intelligent, and oftentimes gentle man, with a heart so big it could embrace the world. Yet, you had problems to work through just like anyone else. So in order to help you sort through those problems, I let go of who I was. I did that in order to become what I thought you needed or wanted me to be. Not fair to you (because it was false) and not fair to me (because it shut me down).
Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and it took me a long time and a lot of work to heal the guilt I felt after we parted. No, I didn’t leave for lack of love. I left because one of us had to leave—because each of us thought that we could find ultimate happiness in each other. We both came up short and started blaming each other for what we couldn’t fulfill in ourselves. If I’d only stayed true to who I really was, we might have made it. However, that’s just what happens when two imperfect people try to find heaven in each other.
For your part, you let me into your carefully guarded heart. You trusted me enough to have a baby with me. And then . . .
You panicked.
You even got mad at yourself for allowing it to happen. From this distance, it’s not hard to understand why. We’ve all got our wounds, but the ones inflicted from your childhood were beyond what most could ever imagine.
But now is not then. Over time, in learning a bit more about love and in learning to forgive myself, and in learning to forgive you, I’ve found the real deal again. I found it when I came to understand that I had to practice unconditional love, patience, and acceptance first before I could expect that from any partner. I had to become the person that I wanted to fall in love with.
I asked myself for many years if the love we had was real. For a long time I wasn’t sure about that, but now I have no doubt. It was absolutely real. And out of that reality came our beautiful Jennifer.
You’ll be happy to know that Jennifer has turned out to be more than any two parents could ever hope for—and she’s exactly the “highly evolved, kindhearted woman” you imagined she might become. Best of all, she’s an amazing mother. Yes, my dear, we are the proud grandparents of Cary Benjamin. He’s a bundle of pure, ecstatic joy. It’s so curious: when he’s concentrating hard, he sticks his little tongue out and bites on it, exactly like you used to do. Where did he get that? Not from Jennifer, whom you’d be so proud of—she’s so present, so beautiful, inside and out. No, that was never one of her habits; he got it from you. Like I said . . . curious.
Isn’t it amazing, Cary, that after all this time, your light still shines so brightly in my heart? And not just for me, but for many, many others. You’re as beloved now as you ever were, and rightly so. You helped generations to laugh, cry, and cheer as we muddled our way through this thing called life, and along the way, you made grace, charm, and wit seem attainable. And even though Elsie and Elias weren’t there for you as a child, you have millions of people who would adopt you on the spot.
We said it many times, Cary: we were both seekers. And the thing that you and I were so desperately searching for was that inexhaustible source of love and that