“Finding someone you love and who loves you back is a wonderful, wonderful feeling. But finding a true soul mate is an even better feeling. A soul mate is someone who understands you like no other, loves you like no other, will be there for you forever, no matter what. They say that nothing lasts forever, but I am a firm believer in the fact that for some, love lives on even after we’re gone.” ― Cecelia Ahern
I am changing every day, spiraling downward into a depth of despair like none I have ever known. I do not know how to stop it. I would like to find a foothold to hold my place securely so that I do not continue falling. Ahern’s sentiment is accurate. Love does continue. He has been gone for nearly three years now, but God knows I still love him with all my heart. Sometimes, after I have spent months just longing for a hug to remind me that I am still alive, I wonder how people manage to move forward. How do you close your heart to the person who was your world and forget everything that was your life. When he died, I died. All our dreams died. All our hopes died. My world ended.
I am sick to death of people telling me that I still have my children. They really do not need to tell me that. I am well aware of and grateful for my children and I thank God every day for not taking them too. However, losing a spouse and losing a child are two very different tragedies. I am not suggesting that one is more tragic than the other is. Either scenario is equally tragic. I love my children and they know. I do not expect them to put their lives on hold to fix mine. Unless someone is a skilled necromancer, he or she cannot help me.
Hang white flags all around and burn red capes for effect. That is all there needs to be now. White flags that dance in the wind and red capes that burn until only ashes remain. The white flags are only to symbolize the fact that I surrender. I surrender to this overwhelming feeling of desolation that controls my life. For a while, I believed that I could handle anything, I was the embodiment of super woman. My red cape is tattered and broken just as am I, and it is time to burn it with the rest of the trash.
The determined strong woman that once was me is gone forever. I missed my calling, I should have been an actress because I have to paint on a smile every day and pretend to be someone else. I think I manage fairly well because no one notices. If they do, the fact that I have not recovered from my loss merely irritates them or that I have the gall to share my sorrow and bring them down frustrates them. The writing of which I was once so proud only adds to my sadness because it has become nothing more than ramblings of a mad woman. The talent I once had is gone.
I want to be done; I surrender. I am tired of the endless storm of tears and the misery consuming me. I am sick of the self-pity and the never-ending anguish torturing me. It is the most torturous death. I never before knew hopelessness, now it devours my soul. I keep asking how much longer I must endure the desolate existence that is my life, and all I hear is silence. I am tired of the silence. I am tired of my own whining. I just want to go home.
I knew a girl, centuries ago, who had a real smile upon her face. She encouraged others and was always doing things for others. Filled with optimism and dreams, her laughter was contagious. She was smart and a talented writer. While never physically beautiful, she mesmerized others with her happiness and her hopefulness. She died. I miss her.
©2012 Relinda R.