All my plans have fallen through,
All my plans depend on you, depend on you to help them grow,
I love you and that’s all I know.
When the singer’s gone let the song go on…
But the ending always comes at last,
Endings always come too fast,
They come too fast but they pass too slow,
I love you and that’s all I know . (Art Garfunkel “All I Know” written by Jimmy Webb)
I tried to watch a comedy today. Flop. I cried. I find that I am extraordinarily talented at securing my emotions behind this mask I don each day, but I am still rather shocked at the depth of pain it secures when I remove it in solitude. The last three years have led me to believe that the talents I once possessed had died, and now I discover that I have acquired a new talent—acting. The grief bottled in my soul escapes when I am alone and threatens to destroy me. It is all right though because I am alone. As long as no one sees it, it is all right. Actually, I have been unable to stop crying for the last four days. My karmic debt must be massive. I keep asking when will I be released, but He does not answer. When I cry myself to sleep and wake up an hour later, I know I still owe on the bill. I have also been asking what I did, in either this life or a past life, to accumulate this much karmic debt. No one answers. An answer could hint to how much time I owe and at least provide something in which to look forward. I visited his grave today. I cried.
My mask becomes iron-like as I stoically face each day. The only problem is my eyes. One cannot hide his or her eyes. Mine are red and swollen, but fortunately, few notice. At least when I use the excuse of my tiredness, it works because I actually am exhausted. I do not dare say that I am tired of living like this. I only say that I am tired. It works and it is not a complete lie.
I know that realistically, the tears will end. No one can continue to function when a song makes him or her cry or seeing a flower’s bloom makes him or her fall to the ground and lament the cycle of life. In the meantime, all I must do is make sure no one sees the tears and repeatedly assure everyone that their plight is much worse than my own, even whilst my heart knows that they have someone waiting at home. I think that one of the most difficult parts of pretending is knowing that people honestly believe they understand while I know that they have the arms of their loved one waiting to hold them at night. The most difficult part is knowing that when I say, I’m good, I am a fraud.
I think that as I near the three-year mark, I am nearing the point of collapse. I am just praying that my mask is strong enough to hide my inevitable collapse, at least until I am alone. I expect nothing from life anymore, but to hear from the other side would help me to cope. If only I could hear him whisper, “It is going to be all right,” perhaps I could gain the strength to finish paying the karmic debt I owe. Until then, I just continue to march along, enduring my punishment, and asking God, how much longer, Lord, how much longer.
©11.2012 Relinda R.