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Story of a first love | Forged 45 years ago

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Reconnecting with a first love after 45 years.

A Riveting and Compelling Account behind a former clients decision to  go and find her.

An Absolute Must Read. If you don’t read anything else-read this! All the thoughts and emotions so succinctly described are imparted here. A vivid recollection behind his decision as to what drove him here. Something we feel many of our clients will undoubtedly empathise with.

“Hi John,

Trying to trace a long | lost love. Further to our brief phone chat this afternoon  – great  to speak with you – here’s the email that I put together during my nerve-wracking procrastination about pursuing this search over the past few months.

Whilst recently cleaning up a load of scanned photos I’d taken a long time ago of a girl I once knew, I became rather lost in nostalgia and, I’ll admit, remorse. We first met in December 1974, when I was 22 and she was 18.

In truth, the person in question – should she still be alive (and I most sincerely hope she is) – would maybe rather let the past be the past and have no desire to reconnect at all. That, I would accept and respect, albeit with some regret, but at least then I’d know for sure and stop my wondering, though it would be nice just to know how she is, what she looks like now, how her life has been, and also to perhaps try and atone for my stupidity and lack of chivalry, respect, and kindness all those years ago. I still don’t know what she saw in me. It was actually she who came knocking at my (parents) door to ask me out!

Her name was XXXX, she worked in Barclays Bank (a small branch near the bus station in xxxx, and later, I think, within the main branch along  the High Street). She lived not far from me, just a few minutes walk away in a small cul-de-sac called xxxx, with her divorced mother. I’m not sure of the exact house number, but I think it was 47. I lived at xxxx Road, with my parents and younger brother.

She was very attractive, slim, only a bit shorter than me (I’m 5′ 9″), had shortish, very tight curly strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes and dressed elegantly. I remember her wearing a fitted, long brown coat which had a big furry collar. I can’t remember what I bought her for Christmas a few weeks later, but I do recall that she bought me an Elton John Greatest  Hits album.

Our time together was, sadly, only a few  months but the legacy of her impact on me was surprisingly deep and lasted many years in spite of that. Our break-up wasn’t  completely  without some acrimony though. I cannot  remember the exact reason for it and so, over the next few years, on the very rare occasion when our paths crossed somewhere  in town, she would barely acknowledge me, though once or twice she did actually stop briefly to say hello and exchange all-too brief pleasantries. In fact, it was her mother xxxx who would always stop to chat whenever I saw her. At some point she moved to her own flat which, I think, was in an apartment  block on the corner of xxx Road in town. I can’t be sure, but later on, when I met her mother one day in town, I think she told me that she had either moved to, or worked in, xxxx.

There was one particular  occasion that springs to mind when xxx and I went to Great Yarmouth for the day with one of her friend’s and her boyfriend (I’m pretty sure they later got married). xxxx, their names were. His surname was xxxx. We took the trip on January 1st 1975. xxx had another friend, with whom she was close at the time – and who was always with her after our break-up (I think she too worked at Barclays) – called xxx. She was a blonde girl whom, I confess, I found to be a little immature  and rather irritating. Always giggling.

The surname I knew xxx by was xxx, though I’m sure her mother used a hyphenated  name. I can’t recall whether xxxx had used it, or had even dropped the xxxx part when I knew her. However, on the very limited piece of information I found in my search efforts (her marriage to xxx), the double-barrelled name was actually recorded – so too, the initial H for a middle name. I never knew she had a middle name, so again, I’m assuming that this is the same girl I once knew, was an only child as far as I recall.

It is now forty years, at least, since I last saw her, during which time she would often appear in my thoughts – as indeed she sometimes still  does. No doubt she has changed much since then, as have I, and perhaps I barely even register in her mind as a phantom from the past, and therefore best forgotten.

The deeper part of me still hopes that past mistakes could be forgiven  and old wounds and grudges healed. Sometimes, over the years, during moments of reflection, I’ve tried searching  for her via Google, but without success.

All I have found, as touched upon earlier, (assuming it’s the same person) is that she was married in 1978 in xxxx to Peter xxx around Christmas – just before I gave any thought to searching for Frances, and I’m limited to what I can use it for now in any case. It was only during the past few months that I stumbled across your website  and became intrigued by the possibilities, and have been debating and procrastinating about things ever since.

I would be most interested to know if you think such an endeavour is worth pursuing, or whether I should just let the matter rest and hold on to the treasured – but fading – memories I have. I do at least still have about thirty or so nice photos to remind me of that brief chapter in my life,  and it would be nice to think that perhaps she might like  to have a copy of them (more so, as  I only  appear on two). I am not trying to rekindle anything (at my age?) other than just friendship, or do anything to upset whatever her current status in life is.

Kind regards,

Note we found her despite a divorce later, and a new surname. 

 

 

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