facets

When my father died, a facet of me died, a facet of me was deactivated and could not be activated again. There was a speaker who only lived when he spoke to my father, and a listener who only lived when my father spoke to him, and forms of speech that passed between us now long dead and buried. My mother thinks she knows me, she thinks the visible bit she knows is the same as the bit she doesn't. In fact, she only knows the facet that is actualised by her, the facet that flickers into life when the two of us speak. The facet she knows lives only in this interval between us, and will die when she dies or I die.  Each significant person, each significant object in our lives activates a different facet, and we are nothing but a multitude of facets, activated by different people, objects and places at different times. Other facets will never surface, will not be activated, because we never encounter the objects and people that would activate them. They await vainly for the person or object that would activate them, these facets, these so called facets, but it never happens. Perhaps some of our most remarkable facets never even exist.