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Archive for May, 2018

Saying Goodbye

The news of your death didn’t really surprise me. You played tag with the reaper for years… half hoping you would lose.

I suppose I should have been sad. That would be the right way to feel. But I only felt relived. The face that haunted my dreams and alarmed my waking thoughts would appear no more. The condemning voices in my head could be stilled. My accuser was silent, at last. You couldn’t hurt me again.

Your life was a tragedy. I am sorry for the part I contributed to your undoing, but not sorry enough to try to fix it one more time. I had offered myself at that altar for too long.

I introduced you to love. You were so unsure of yourself then. Dangerous and beautiful. In the beginning I was free, and you sought me out. But when I traded in all trust and bargained away all other friendship for your treasure, I wandered the streets hoping to see some sign of you. What began for me as pity, became passion… then, possession.

I began as your dream. You worshiped me once. But when I became a habit, you found fault with me everywhere. I wanted to please you. When had the balance changed? When I tried to walk away, so many times, you wouldn’t let me. I was yours and nobody else’s… but no longer loved. I was your slave.

I cried with you when your parents divorced. When they told you they’d only married because of you. Their bastard son.

Angry words, angry blows, desperate cries turned on me. You ran from the law, and from me. When I found you, you crushed me with words. When I ran from you, you beat me, or tried to kill yourself. When I wouldn’t let you, you tried to kill me. Oh, why wouldn’t you let me go? When I found the strength, if you hated me so much, why wouldn’t you let me just… go. But perhaps, you were possessed, too. For a long time, your demons were stronger than mine.

It took a little girl, to release me. Her tiny hand held mine and reached out to you. When you walked away… I flew.

You turned to my best friend, in your so-called grief. She poured out years of anger on you, for what you had done to me. You seemed so sorry.

Were you sorry?

She became your comforter. And I warned her not to believe you. But you were subtle. And who could not love you? So dangerous, and beautiful.

When she told me she was engaged to you, I cried for her loss. I wanted to believe you could love her. That you’d be good to her.

On the day you struck her, you knew it was over. All your tears could not make a difference then, though she never stopped loving you. You were her dream. But she wouldn’t let you abuse her. She was much stronger than I.

As years passed you tried to get us back. Even after we had found new loves and married, you would call. Sometimes I thought I saw your face on the street or at my door, and was filled with terror. Fearful dreams and waking visions continued for years.

When I heard the news that you were dead, I was relieved. I knew it was the alcohol that finally drove you to pull the trigger. The reaper came when another said no to you. You faced a world without love and couldn’t go on. I should be sad for you. Maybe I am, a little.

My best friend and I laid a rose on your unmarked grave and said goodbye for the last time. She wept, and I comforted her. Now that you are really gone, and cannot find me or hurt me anymore… maybe I will be sorry for you. After those four years of love and pain, you will always be a memory, locked away.

My great comfort and hope is that somewhere, your little girl grew up safe, and loved.

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