I wasn’t planning to write about this for Substack, but I was inspired by Grace Fox’s article on Therese Blanchard. I didn’t know other people traced down historical ghosts, built connections from only vapors and dates.

Instead of a painting, my adventure starts with a tombstone in Melrose Abbey, in England, on August 26, 2019. I was wandering through the abbey with my group of study-abroad college students when this tomb stopped me in my tracks.

I’m going to take the easy road here and quote my 2019 essay, The Panorama of Time:“Melrose Abbey was founded in 1136 and used as a monastery until 1590 when the last monk in residence died. (Historic Environment Scotland). It was there that I saw this faded gravestone and was overwhelmed by surprising questions. To my knowledge, the stone reads: “In memory of David Wayness who died June 4th… aged 51 years.” Knowing that he had half a century of life doesn’t have as much impact without knowing the era. He could have led a long life in the 1600s or a short life two centuries later. Furthermore, knowing the length of a life doesn’t say anything about the quality of it. I wonder if he was respected in his community, if he felt fulfilled in his vocation or secure in his faith. The faded year is a symbol to me, and David Wayness lives on adrift in my memory. The sensation of time is different than the keeping of time, and this experience reminds me that time is an anchor, grounding us within space and providing a context.”

Pretty insightful for a 20-year-old. I went on with my trip, carrying David with me in the back of my mind, in a secret corner of my heart. I came home, and this private connection only grew. I had never had a romantic partner at this point in my life, and I wouldn’t for a few more years. David kept me company while I worked and went to school. Building a family tree for him on Ancestry.com (from absolute scraps) became a creative outlet and an obsession. I made playlists for him (I was particularlt fond of Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Alex Sloan), built the beginnings of a story around who I imagined him to be, and nurtured a curiosity that took me further and further out of the present moment and my actual life.

To be clear. I never had full-blown conversations with this ghost. I would write letters to “him”, but I never heard an audible response or got any otherworldly message. I always knew I was the sole narrator of this story. I picture David with a full head of curly red hair and a big red beard, but of course, I have absolutely no pictures to refer to.

And then in January 2021, nearly 18 months after I first “met” David, I stumbled across the idea that we had been lovers in a past life. Yes, that does sound straight out of Outlander. That possibility skyrocketed my fascination from curiosity into full-blown obsession. Now I don’t want to dunk on my younger self. She was somewhat lonely and had never had a boyfriend, and daydreaming about an old tombstone is harmless, if not incredibly cringeworthy.

For reference, I posted the following photo to my Instagram on May 30, 2021, with absolutely no irony or self-awareness—complete misappropriation of a Song of Achilles quote with zero shame.

I no longer remember the exact date, and I can’t find the photo, but I remember finally realizing something. After months of obsessive online research and staring at the same picture over and over, I could finally see the year he died. “David Wayness who died on June 4, 1841, aged 51 years.” Meaning he was born in 1790. Somehow, finally understanding what I had been staring at for months on end was both a relief and a disappointment. The chase was over.

My obsession deflated and faded when I finally solved the mystery. In the years since I visited Melrose, I’ve finally experienced a genuine romantic connection. It’s not a fairytale, but it’s a million times better. Real love has taken me on adventures, deepened and stretched me in countless ways, and reshaped my entire life trajectory. I held onto my fairytale until I was strong enough to jump into real love, and now I can release it. That’s all I know for now. Thanks for reading