The Sunset of Love

Renee love the spring time, the smell in the air, the blossoms poking up their heads from the frozen  earth and the birds singing.  It often reminded her of her favorite childhood movie, and she thought back to the little dear wandering in the forest, the wise old owl sitting in the tree high above answering questions about spring.  The owl had said that the creatures of the forest had become twitter patted.  She remembered that scene and the owl fondly, because it was spring and love was in the air for her.  She smiled as she imagined herself running through the woods laughing at everything and nothing for Renee knew that this was how she had felt from the first moment that she had laid eyes on Grady.

Grady had been outside of the norm for Renee, she had always chosen men that were career oriented, those that could offer financial stability for her, the tall dark and handsome man that would complement her tiny fair frame, but Grady was different.  He walked different, he talked different and he knew all the right words.  He had given Renee hope when she thought that all men were self-absorbed and self-aggrandizing, Grady had spoken the soft words of dreams of a life he had envisioned for them.  He quietly played music for her, telling her that he had penned the lyrics for her.  Grady was a poet, and he was music to Renee’s ears. 

The words that Grady had spoken to Renee were music to her ears, they were proof positive that love existed and the bond that they had between them could not be broken.  Their countless conversations and their fantasies carried them through the hard times, it gave them a sustenance that fed them and fueled their love.  He proved himself over and over again to her, showed her that he loved her and that they had a future because somewhere they had a past in another life.  A past that had kept them apart and even now when they were separated by miles he sensed her need for him, knew she was thinking about him and longing to fall into his arm.  He was just that kind of a man.

He was a man, more of a man than any Renee had ever known and every day she was a little more amazed by him, by his love and what he gave to her. Until Renee had met Grady she had only known men that were driven by success, by money and their stature in life, it was boring to her and it didn’t offer her the passion that she had always longed for deep in her heart.  He was not driven by any of the things that the other men she had known were driven by, because Grady, in his totality was driven by his heart.  She had listened carefully to his words, the things that he had said, the promises that he had made her and she knew that he wanted to give her everything that he was.  She watched as the tears flowed down his checks as he spoke of his love for her, their unity and what they would do together for the rest of their lives.  Renee knew that the courage that it took for him to express himself to expose himself to her made him the greatest man of all time, greater than she had even seen her own father whom she had adored. 

The smell of spring brought more hope into their relationship for it renewed them, it renewed their adventures and it gave them the opportunity to be where they wanted to be, in the high mountain plateaus of New Mexico.  They had traveled there, dreamed of living there and sharing a life together in a log cabin.  They had spoken of their art, their creations, of children and family. They had formed a bond over and in a place that was rich with culture and tradition and they both longed to be there, to start a life looking out over the multi-dimensional sunsets, to watch as the sunset upon the hills and glistened off the rocks forming a rainbow of colors that captivated the heart and the eye.

Tonight they sat together, hand in hand on an old Indian blank, one that they had purchased together at a flea market.  They watched as the sun began its long decent across the hills, they stared in amazement as the colors began to change and life began to stand still.  At that very moment when light no longer existed and darkness had yet to begin Grady stood up, an act that Renee thought odd for they always waited for the stars to shine their brightest before they began their trek home.  But he was different tonight, he seemed somewhat aloof, a side that Renee had never seen in Grady, he had always been so open and honest with her in a raw sort of way.  She was pensive as Grady stood there towering tall above her, not knowing what he would say or do.

Grady stood there for a moment, looking out on to the landscape, not uttering a word.  Renee watched him, glanced over his body looking for anything that she could find amiss, she saw his silhouette against the setting sun; he was striking with his broad shoulders and thin frame.  She thought about how attracted to his physical characteristics she was, his arms that held her, his face that contained the smile that lit her life on fire, the mouth that uttered the words that she longed to hear.  Renee thought about how many times the strength of his arms had wrapped around her, holding her, keeping her warm and letting her know that she was loved.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Grady reached out his hand to Renee, lifting her up off the blanket, pulling her into him.  It was a place where she felt comfortable and loved, it was her home in his arms tightly wrapped around her.  Grady gently kissed her neck and then her lips, he whispered into her ear that he loved her more than the sunset, more than the plateau, more than his dreams.  Renee felt the dampness of the tear running down her face as she pulled back and looked into his eyes.  She knew that this man, the man that held her in his arms this night was the only man that she would ever love, that would ever capture her in that way, the way that romance novels dictated, the way that fairy tales ended.  She knew that he was the only great love of her life and she knew, as she whispered back, that she would love no one ever the way she loved him at that moment.

It was then that Grady announced that he had a surprise for her and grabbed up their Indian blanket, shaking off the sand while he half-heartedly folded it.   He looked at her and told her that he would be eternally grateful if she accompanied him.  Without a moment of hesitation Renee grabbed her bag, slipped her hand into his as they headed towards his car.  She didn’t ask what the surprise was, she didn’t want to spoil it, but in her heart she ached for him to ask her to be his wife, to share the rest of his life with her.  She wanted that, more than anything to be a family and create life with him and through him.  Renee remained silent, her fear of the unknown washed away by her hand in his as they pulled away.

What seemed like an eternity to Renee was, in reality, only a short time.  They hadn’t driven far when Grady stopped the car, putting it into park and turning off the ignition.  Renee didn’t even have time to formulate or ask a question before Grady had run to her side and pulled the door open for her.  Holding out his hand to her, she grasped it and used it to give her leverage out of the vehicle.  They were standing in front of the most beautiful cabin she had ever seen and there were no questions coming from her lips for she was in such awe, the landscape, the cabin, all of it was just as they had spoken about.  It was, in fact, their dream, a dream they shared together and it was just as they had imagined.

Grady took Renee’s hand as he walked her up the steps to the front door of the cabin.  He held it tightly as she seemed to be in a trance of sorts, unable to put one foot in front of the other.  He gently out his hand into his pocket, and pulled it out, contained in his hand was a key, a key to the door that stood in front of them.  He handed the key to Renee and told her to go ahead and open it.  She looked at him in a sort of disbelief as she took the key from his hand and inserted it into the lock.  With one swift turn and a twist of the knob the door to the cabin swung open revealing every conversation the two of them had ever had.  The art work, the furniture, the kitchen; it was all as they had imagined; it was all they had talked about.  Grady took Renee’s hand one more time as he led her into the kitchen.

There on the counter was a bottle of champagne chilling to perfection, a box and an envelope.  Grady reached for the box as he dropped to one knee and opened it.  Inside was the most beautiful sapphire ring that Renee had ever seen, and her hand went to her mouth, she didn’t know what to do except wait for Grady to utter the question, would she marry him.  It didn’t take Renee a single second to answer him, for she knew this was what she had longed for and her response would always have been a resounding yes.  And when she did respond, he lifted her into him, kissed her gently and told her that he was sorry for the wait, but that he needed to make all her dreams come true first.  With that, he reached for the envelope that lay on the counter and said, welcome home my love, this is our dream.

 

Thanks to Shane Alexander for the music and in part for the inspiration.

 

Sara's Thoughts

 

 

Sara often found herself deep in her own thoughts; it was like a well for her, deep and dark; sometimes flooded with emotions. Emotions that made her feel as if she was tirelessly treading water, unable to rest or catch her breath. At times she felt as though there was no escape from her them or the pain that went ran along the deepest recesses of her mind.  She felt as if she was doomed to forever reside within the well of her head.

 

Sara wondered if she had done the right things in life, if her choices were as pure as she believed they were. She had always tried to do the right things, gave up the things she wanted and acquiesced to the demands of others and their needs. It was in part these actions that now sent her to her own thoughts, her own questions and her realization that thinking really gave her no answers and yet she stayed there in the well of her own thoughts; mired in treading water and in deep pain.

 

Sara prayed for relief to see the sun and to feel its warmth. She wanted to soar like a bird, high among the clouds to feel that sort of unrelenting freedom but the walls inside the well of her thoughts were covered in dark silt. Each time that Sara tried to scale the walls she would find her hands slipping on the silt, unable to get a hand hold that would lift her out of her thoughts, out of the darkness and into the light. The sun seemed so distant to her and yet each day she could feel its warmth beating down upon her, beckoning her to try harder to escape her own darkness.

 

She needed to escape her thoughts, how she questioned everything, the words of those that claimed to love her, the feelings of wanting to cry and the urge to scream. Yet, Sara didn't know how to have people listen to her, how to get them to understand who she was deep inside even when she tried as hard as she could. She knew that this frustration lent itself to her retreating into the well of her brain. It was safe there, quiet and isolated from the hurt and pain she had known in her life and she was comfortable in the stillness of her thoughts. Sara liked the safety of her thoughts for she understood them better than anyone ever understood her. The thoughts to Sara were like a security blanket that covered her, they were hers and hers alone and she didn't feel the need to share them with anyone for she knew that even if they listened they couldn't understand.

 

It was that knowledge and understanding that kept Sara within herself. No one could rescue her and yet she remained hopeful that the one person she needed most would someday understand and accept her. That he would stand tall in the sun above, hear her thoughts and drop down the life line of love and inspiration that would assist her in coming out from the abyss into the light. She needed that, she needed him to be there and to hear her and so she waited.

 

Her wait seemed as endless as the images that ran through her head, they were all on a loop that circled and circled in and around her.  At times her thoughts seemed cartoonish, filled with lavish colors and a multitude of characters.  Her tenuous periods of waiting reminding her of a clock who’s minute hand turned at rapid speeds, just flitting out of control.  She wished many times that she could pull the batteries from the clock, to end the wait and she wanted desperately to cut the loop on her thoughts.  Sara didn’t have the energy to do either and so she sat and she waited, waited for him.

 

A moment turned to hours and hours into days, she called out to him silently with each breath that she could muster up.  He didn’t respond, he couldn’t respond for he could not climb into her head, into her thoughts and even though her thoughts were about him, about her past and about the time that they shared and he was always there it was as if he too was intrinsically intertwined with them and could not escape.  How could he help her, throw her a life line when she kept him a prisoner in her mind, Sara knew that she couldn’t keep him there and that she could not allow him to be suffocated alongside her in the deepness of the well which were only her thoughts.

 

She laid down that last night, clinging to her memories, knowing that they were hers and that she needed to set them free.  She counted, one number after another, a ritual that she found helped lull her to sleep, but this time the numbers were different.  This time the meanings that Sara had assigned to them were of the days that she had been alone, silent in her thoughts.  She counted and she recounted the days, the nights and the hours and with each increment she realized that each of her days, each of her moments were filled with more thoughts and memories of him, of her love for him and despite her hurt and her pain she knew that only he could pull them out of the darkness, out of the silt and mess that had been created in her head.

 

And as sleep approached her, as the numbers began to lull her into slumber, she reached over and placed her hand upon his stomach as she had done so many times before.  She heard his breathing and felt his heart beating within his chest.  For the first time in months Sara had a sense of comfort as she laid there feeling so much love for him.  For in this dream, for in this moment in time he was there beside her, loving her as much as she loved him, even if it was not reality and only a dream that floated in the deep recesses of the well which were her thoughts.

 

Thanks to Brent Shuttleworth for the music.

 

The Wings Of A Butterfly

Mary had always been a trusting soul, she trusted everyone around her and strangers she just bumped into. It was worrisome for those that loved her because they saw her get hurt over and over again. It really didn't matter to Mary that she was hurt or disappointed in those that she granted her trust to for she was able to rationalize it in her mind and continued to smile.

 

Every day was a new day in Mary's mind, she was optimistic and sure that life would bring her the richness of friends, love and respect. Her friends thought of her as a butterfly, beautiful, graceful and inspiring. She was always positive and sure and she spread that attitude among her friends, just as the butterfly spreads pollen among the flowers in the garden. And, just as the butterfly was drawn to the flowers, her friends were drawn to her. They knew that, even when they had let her down, she would be there to make them smile.

 

No one knew just why Mary was so trusting, how she could find the resolve to trust so deeply and care so much. Mary's life had been hard on her, she had been tragically hurt by those that she had trusted. And though the scars that she had were not visible to the naked eye, they were there and they ran through the fiber of her being as if they were what held her together, helped her to stand, see and function. Everyone thought that her hurt would have made her bitter, withdrawn and mistrust, but it was just the opposite for Mary.

 

She was the Butterfly, full of energy, color and purpose. She looked for the good in everyone, and even when a moment of doubt would creep into her mind, when she thought for that brief second that she could not trust she pushed it aside. She never gave into her doubt, even when the situation would arise that would allow her to verify she could trust, Mary would never take advantage of that opportunity. She was very pragmatic in her perspective and she never wavered, always feeling like to do so would make her untrustworthy herself.

 

So it was that Mary would find more hurt in her life, more pain than she ever knew possible.  That pain grew from her trust, and grew within her as a baby growing with the womb of its mother. The pain began a life of its own outside of Mary and within her, becoming noticeable in her face.

 

Mary's eyes took on a deep darkness; they were sullen in appearance and the dark circles under them made her look as if she had been cast in a "B" rated horror flick. She seemed drawn and tired, somewhat expressionless as her smile had all but faded away. Her friends didn't hear from her much anymore and the few that ran into her on the street couldn't help to notice how frail she had become. Her noticeably thin frame didn't glide any longer and it appeared that each step took a concerted effort on her part.

 

Yet, Mary would always force a half-hearted smile and tell her friends she was fine. Those that were self-absorbed accepted it and moved along with their lives, never the wiser to the pain that rested inside of Mary and she was content with that, with being alone in it all. She had, after all, been the one that had made everyone else smile. She was content with knowing that she had been there, been a good friend once upon a time.

 

What pained her now, at this moment in her life, was her own knowing that there was no one there for her, that she was truly alone. Her own parents were long ago gone from this world; her family so far away in miles and she was childless to boot. She had no one to talk to and so she shut herself off from the world both physically and emotionally, only doing the things she had to do to survive, and that was all she was doing.

 

Days turned to weeks and years before anyone realized that Mary had just disappeared from the face of the earth.  No one called her anymore, and there was never a knock upon her door. She had isolated herself within the dark abyss of her apartment. There was no job any longer, Mary had resigned months prior, and no one questioned her leaving, her boss had even suggested that her noticeable unhappiness was simple boredom with her daily tasks, that she needed a change.  She had managed to save enough money during her working days to survive for a long while, and had set up her bills for automatic payment. It was an action that allowed her, so she thought at the time, freedom not to worry and have more time for herself and her friends.

 

It wasn't until the money was gone and her automatic drafts began to be returned that one by one her utilities were turned off and her rent became past due. The landlord had left notices pinned to her door as if they were awards won in a race, one notice turned to two and then five before he himself began to wonder why he saw no lights or heard no movement within the apartment. Had this chipper little girl just left without telling him? It certainly wasn't the Mary he had known, and it was out of character for his longest tenant.

 

It took the landlord three days of consideration before he decided he would knock on the door one more time before he used his pass key to enter the apartment. As he approached the door he had a sense of foreboding that overwhelmed him, his hands clammy and his brow moist with sweat. He knocked lightly at the door at first and then as his anxiety rose within him a little harder. There was no answer, no sounds from within, just an unwelcoming stillness that frightened him.

 

He slipped the pass key from his pocket and placed it into the door lock. As he pushed open the door he reached for the light switch that would illuminate the darkened apartment. As it clicked into the upward position nothing happened, the apartment was blanketed in the still darkness of a cold winter's night. There was an overwhelming sense of doom that filled him as he reached into his pockets to grab his cell phone to use the flashlight on it to see what the darkness had hidden from him.  His hand trembling as he managed to clutch on to the mobile device.

 

For an instant he thought about using his phone to call the authorities, but for what, he didn't know that there was anything wrong in the apartment, he didn't know what hid from him in the darkness. The uncertainty gave him hope that all he would find was emptiness looming inside the walls, that Mary had just moved out  without notice. As he turned on the flashlight he saw Mary's furniture, and a tidy space without any signs of life. Only then did he try to reconcile within his mind that all was still right, she had just forgotten to pay the electric bill.  This was, after all, the way the apartment always appeared when he had the occasion to come in.

 

He moved further into the apartment, the flashlight guiding his way as the stench of rotting food began to fill his nostrils. The trash can was full, overflowing in fact, and he assumed now that Mary had left in a hurry, simply forgetting to empty the trash. He moved further into the apartment, this time wondering if someone might not have kidnapped Mary, taken her bright light with them. He thought about how he could not forgive himself for not checking in on her if someone had taken her, if she had been the victim of foul play.

 

As he walked into the bedroom he realized that he would never be able to forgive himself and tears began to fill his eyes. He thought about running, just calling the authorities, but he couldn't he was frozen in time and space for what he saw chilled him into disbelief. There upon the bed, in a beautiful flowered summer dress laid Mary. Dead flowers in vases surrounded her in the neatness of her room.  He thought about the ironic image that he was seeing, the flowered dress, the dead and wilted daisies and the butterfly that had been Mary.  The butterfly was gone and so were the flowers, for without her they too had died.  In the hand of the butterfly that laid across her chest was a piece of paper that he dare not touch, despite the fact that he knew she was gone, he could not approach her.

 

With tears flooding his eyes and grief ripping at his heart, he slowly backed out of the room, out of the apartment. As he reached the hallway he leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, weeping uncontrollably now, his hands covering his face. He mustered the strength to dial 911 and sat there alternating between tears and silence as he tried to come to terms with what he had just witnessed. He knew that it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

 

The police arrived to find him still sitting on the floor. He attempted, as best as he could, to explain what he had just seen. There was no explanation, for he himself did not understand, he couldn't explain it, comprehend why such a light as what swelled inside of Mary had gone out. He just knew it was gone and somehow he felt responsible. He wouldn't understand, even when the police handed him the piece of paper that Mary had clutch to her breast.

 

It read, "Two years ago I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Breast Cancer. The doctors told me I wouldn't survive. As I walked through my own grief I realized that no one was there for me. I was alone and scared, my friends didn't ask what was wrong or reach out to me. The positive light inside began to go out and I knew that whatever happened to me it would happen alone, that I would go into the light through the darkness. If you are reading this now, know I am in a better place, surrounded by beauty, forgive yourself and forgive me for my pain was unbearable, my life tenuous."

 

At that moment he knew that he had failed as a human and that he had failed Mary and he knew that his failure wasn't one that he would suffer alone for all that knew Mary had failed her. He knew that she should not have been alone, and he wondered if the forgiveness that Mary had spoken of in her letter would ever come for him, for all those that she had known. And, in her final moments of life, he realized that Mary was still Mary, that she had put those that she had loved before herself and she had forgiven them in her darkest moment for she had always ridden on the wings of the butterfly.

"Silence in the darkness is not a comfort, it simply reminds us how alone we truly are"  (me 2013)

End Stage

Sarah’s heart felt heavy today, heavier than it had ever felt and the weight inside her was overwhelming.  It felt like winter inside her, a snow laden roof covering her spirit.  She wasn’t sure if she had the energy to face the day and wanted to climb back under the covers shielding herself from the pain and the chill inside her.  There would be no fire today, lit under her to carry her through the day, only pain and sadness.  The question was not how to deal with it, but if she could.

Time had not been nice to Sarah, it ticked away fast and harsh, each second of every moment now drowning out the sound of her own heart.  She knew it was beating, she could feel the pain of its pulse within her chest and yet she tried to ignore it and the warning signs that came with it.  She had been trying to do so since her youth, trying to understand why so much overwhelmed her, made her retreat into herself; she was never able to.  In those times she found comfort under the covers or under her bed when she was small enough to fit.  Crawling under the bed was no longer an option for her and yet she longed for the darkness, for the hardened wood floor beneath her bones.  She wanted her body to feel the pain that was in her heart.

Tony had packed his bags the night before, telling her that he was leaving as she walked through the door from work.  It had already been a stressful day, her boss was on her back and she was struggling to keep up with the tasks she had been assigned.  She felt as if she was losing her grip on reality and all that she had worked towards.  Tony’s announcement was just another stick to the pin cushion that had become her life.  One more painful prick, but this one was another one to her heart and one that she couldn’t bear.  She knew she loved him, that she always would, he had captured her heart and made the world a better place to be in, to breathe in.  He was tender with her in all the ways that mattered and he made her feel special.  She wasn’t sure what had happened and why he was leaving, she was blindsided by it all, by the look on his face. 

He had become stone cold towards her and she wasn’t sure why.  There had been times that they had argued, Tony had a temper and she was withdrawn at times, but she always thought that they had resolved things.  Sarah thought that at least until the next argument when the old issues would resurface, leaving her wondering if she was oblivious to the world, inadequate and ignorant.  Maybe she had always felt that way, inadequate and ignorant, maybe it stemmed from her youth, the times when her parents would argue and she couldn’t stop them, or maybe it was just what it was and she was too free with forgiveness and too easily convinced that she could be loved.  Still, his face had said it all, Tony didn’t need words, didn’t need to tell her that the love she thought she had found didn’t exist, for she saw it on his face.  Sarah knew then that she still loved him, and that to show that she needed to let him go for that was what he wanted and that was what Tony thought he needed to do in order to find happiness.  Sarah has always and only wanted Tony to be happy.

Sarah stood there, speechless and unable to catch herself.  Tony’s announcement was all of the words that needed to be said.  She knew that she couldn’t convince him to stay, that his mind was made up.  She just watched him, longing to put her arms around him, to have him hold her, for things to be the way they were in the beginning, but she knew that was not possible, that she couldn’t turn back the clock and make him love her like that again.  She knew that there would be no kiss good-bye this time, that there would be no hug or a proclamation of love.  Her longing would not be filled, her desires not quenched and her passion for this man extinguished as soon as he walked through the door.

She knew where he was going, he would be home, the place that had always been there for him.  He felt a comfort there and a sense of familiarity that she could never give him.  That house, his home was filled with memories that she couldn’t replace.  Love, she realized, was not a replacement for memories as strong as those.  It could not fill the gaps, or heal the wounds.  Sarah ran to the window and watched as he walked down the sidewalk, tears streaming down her face now as the taxi he had called pulled up.  The big yellow car was taking him away, to another place and time, a place that she could never go.  As she watched it pull away she saw the irony in it all, her struggles to find herself and to know true love.  He had been her sunshine, the bright spot in her life and now he was leaving in a big bright yellow car, taking with him her heart tucked away in one of his bags where it would remain hidden in the darkness forever.  Sarah wept at that moment, wept like she had never done before and she knew that life would never be the same.

"There is a beginning, a middle and an end to everything in life.  If we love fully, with every fiber in our being we will never be able to distinguish the parts of the whole." (me 2015)

 

 

The Daughter

 

 

            She remembers the day her daughter was born; she was such a beautiful little creature, her head full of little blonde ringlets and an angelic rosy face, perfect in every way.  It was such a happy day and yet filled with a sense of something missing.  She knew what it was that was missing, she felt it and it was strong within her, that feeling of absence; the one that a daughter knows at that moment she yearns to share with her own mother the birth of her child.  But her mother wasn’t there, they had been estranged for years and the weight lay heavy upon her as she cradled her infant in her arms.

            There wasn’t much that she could do to change what was and so she began the task of raising her daughter.  She was her third child so it was old hat to her by this point, the act of being a mom, the endless diaper changes and late night feedings, but still she missed that first bond that a mother shares with her daughter when she gives birth.  Many times she wanted to pick up the phone and call her mother, to invite her over to see the new bundle of joy; she never did because she knew what would become of it, the hassles that would ensue within her marriage and the turmoil in her life.  She hated turmoil and so she existed within the status quo that was her surroundings.

            The days turned to weeks and weeks into months and years.  Time didn’t stand still for her yearnings and her children began to grow up, get older and yet her mother was not there to see them mature or to know what they had become, she needed her there; wanted her near to hold and nurture her children.  It saddened her so and she missed her mother in her life and that of her children as she watched them reach the milestones that they all do, the piano lessons and recitals, the graduations from high school.  She had raised four children all together and there was always this feeling that they had been shortchanged, that they had missed something; an extended family a group of people that would love them unconditionally and be a safety net for them.  She knew that the choices that she had made had been the catalyst for what their lives were and though she wanted to take responsibility for those choices she wasn’t sure how to do so.

            Months and years turned to decades and she knew that her turmoil with her own mother was partly due to her father and that she had taken sides in her parents’ struggles, which while she shouldn’t have been placed in that position she had willingly walked into it.  She also knew that her own marriage, her desire to keep her children with their father had played a rather large roll in not reaching out to her mother and mending fences.  Her husband, the father of her children had an uncontrollable disdain for her mother and any contact would have caused a war within her home and so she kept quiet, remained silent about her own needs.  Her silence was a part of who she was, she withdrew from the things that her heart needed in favor of those that she loved, those that she brought into the world.

            It would be years before she would break her silence and stand up for what she knew she needed what she wanted out of her own life.  It would be too late to mend the fences with her own mother, but her conviction and determination would cause a repeat of her past, and the past of her own mother.  The repetition would be resounding and difficult for her to comprehend in some ways and yet so familiar it would frighten her to the point of nightmares, always wondering what the final outcome would be for that beautiful little girl that was her third child, the baby that she craved so much.

            It would be a familiar scene for her as she embarked on her own path, one that included a divorce, a sense of freedom and loss.  She tried to keep the relationship with her child, but that little girl had, not unlike herself, always been a daddy’s girl.  That relationship would ultimately determine how she related to her child, how far she could trust her and prove to be what would separate them.  It would come at a great cost for both of them, the child and the mother, for the daughter that she had given birth to was now a mother herself and there was a longing for her to hold those grandchildren, to love them.  She thought about her own mother in those moments when she couldn’t fulfill the need to hold her grandchildren and it saddened her to think that she had inflicted pain on the person that had raised her and loved her.  She understood better now than she ever had what she had done by not picking up the phone and calling her own mother.

            She waited for the call, the communication from her child and wondered if she could deal with the pain of the call, how to address the hurt and if she could ever just accept it and move forward.  She wasn’t sure that she could, if she knew how or if she should just protect herself from it all.  And then, there came the text message announcing the birth of her daughter’s third child.  It was an announcement that was filled with pain and remorse for it was an announcement that brought with it the fleeting memories of the birth of her daughter so many years before.  Memories of the loss of a mother, of a relationship that she wouldn’t have the time to recapture or the opportunity to set right before her mother left this world.  She knew that her own child was, in an odd coincidence of fate, taking the same path that she had with her own mother and the familiarities frightened her.

 

"To my mother, who left too early.  Happy Birthday, I love and miss you.  I hope that you can see these words and that you hear my message."  (me 2015)

The Music is Yours Mom

 

 

 

Sissy's Flight

Sissy arrived at the airport early, she hated flying and was really nervous about arriving at her destination in one piece; both physically and emotionally. The past week had been rough for her, she had booked this flight just yesterday and even as she laid her head on the pillow last night she wasn't sure it was the right thing to do. 

 

The night was long for Sissy, she tossed and turned, even waking up in a cold sweat after having one of those dreams, the kind that make you question reality and just where you are. She had argued with Jayme again right before she went to sleep, the same kind of argument that they had been having for the last year and a half. Sissy thought that maybe she shouldn't go, maybe she should just give up and hang up on their relationship the way he had hung up on her last night.

 

It was just the week before he had taken off for New York while she was sleeping.  It was another one of his insecurities that made him run and Sissy, in response to his running again, refused to talk to him. She was too hurt, too angry and she knew that if she spoke to him her resolve would crumble; she would let him back into her heart. She knew this because it was what had been happening for the last six months. Jayme would get upset over something silly and he would run, but this last time was very different, so different in fact that Sissy didn't know if she could or would get past it.

 

Their initial conversation this time was nothing more than screaming. Sissy felt frustrated, more than normal, and she needed to be heard. That was Jayme's downside; his ears were always obscured by his mouth. It was impossible for him to hear Sissy when all he did was talk. It seemed like he was so obsessed with getting respect for himself that he forgot that it had to be given to be received. Sissy certainly didn't feel as if Jayme respected her, most of the time she felt like his chattel.

 

There was a moment as she walked through the passageway to board the plane that Sissy thought about turning around, going back to her car and just going home. She glanced over her shoulder to see how many people she would have to cut through to get back to the terminal. She hung on to the railing that ran the length of the passage, took a deep breath and steadied herself, thinking that one deep breath would get her on the plane. The other passengers that were boarding the flight passing her by, some just glancing in her direction while others looked through her. She was in Zone 1 on this leg of the flight and she knew she needed to decide quickly, so Sissy forced the courage to pick up her feet and place them one in front of the other.

 

Once on the plane Sissy sat down and stowed her carry on under the seat in front of her, it was all she brought with her this time. That one small bag contained nothing more than the bare necessities. In part she thought that her choice of luggage had signaled what her mind had already decided, and yet she hung on to hope. She hoped that there would be more change in their relationship than what she had packed in that small carry on. Her first flight to New York had been very different, she had over packed, was prepared for all the possibilities the relationship might hold. This was a bag of uncertainty, a quick escape bag if need be.

 

Fastening her seat belt tightly, she again thought back to the first flight to New York to meet Jayme. It seemed like eons ago, but it was just a little over two years prior. She was full of excitement and anticipation that day, looking forward to meeting Jayme after having spent weeks and endless hours talking to him over the phone. This time was different and Jayme was different, she was even different, but yet they were still the people that they had been in the beginning. She began to think about all the things that had happened this past year and how the difference in Jayme had begun to affect her self-esteem.

 

Sissy wanted familiarity in her life, she needed consistency and she had none of that with Jayme. One minute he was loving and caring and the next he was a screaming loon. The things that angered him were things that Sissy didn't see or feel and she didn't understand where they came from. Her time with Jayme included such isolation from the world. Most days she didn't want to leave her house because she worried that they would fight. In some ways this suited her fine since she was a homebody, but there were times that it annoyed her. 

 

Annoyance became somewhat the hallmark of Sissy's face. People often commented that she seemed tired or as if she wasn't feeling well. One excuse after another would come from her lips, maybe because if she uttered the words, let them cross her lips it would be like lava erupting from a volcano, burning and destroying everything in its path. Sissy knew that she would just tuck her feelings into her pocket and keep them there hidden from the world, she knew that on the outside she would continue to be the clown, entertaining those around her while all the while she was boiling inside.

 

The boiling emotions inside of Sissy wouldn't ease up this day for she had a lot of things to think about, including changing planes. She knew she had another chance to back out, that her connecting flight was at an airport just three hours from home. She could rent a car there and drive home if she needed to and that gave her some comfort. Jayme had promised her that he would not yell or accuse her if she came, that he missed her and he wanted their relationship to work. Sissy wanted desperately to believe him because she loved him.   What didn't give her comfort were Jayme's promises, she knew, from their past, that they were just words. Things he would say but wouldn't be able to follow through on. 

 

As the first leg of her flight ended Sissy worried that she wouldn't make the connection. She had broken her foot a few weeks earlier and was still hobbled by the pain and her connecting flight was scheduled to leave in less than a half of an hour. She felt certain that missing that flight would be a sign, one that would tell her to go home. Sissy looked for signs in everything, something that would move her in a certain direction.   She had been on the last seat on this flight and thought that it had represented her relationship with Jayme, that she had always taken a back seat to the pain in his life, that no matter how much she loved him or how hard she tried to please him it wasn't enough to cure his pain. So, Sissy waited for all the passengers to disembark from the flight, just as she had waited for Jayme to see her for who she was, so that she could make a mad dash for her connection.

 

Sissy had felt so connected to Jayme when they first met; just like the two flights she was to take that day. It was a connection that would bring them together. Their lives had been similar and yet very different, but they were lives that led them down a path that would bring them together. She wanted to be together with Jayme, the way they were in the beginning, to have that passion again, to have him adore her and for her adoration of him to continue. She thought about the fear of missing her connection again and for a brief moment, as she hobbled towards her terminal, she thought about Jayme and how he must feel somewhat like she did at that moment, fearful that if he did not control her actions that he would miss his emotional connection to her.

 

Sissy had texted Jayme when the first leg of her flight landed and let him know that she was rushing to make the connection. She knew that she needed to make contact with him as soon as she figured out if she would be able to get onto her flight. She had zigzagged through the airport narrowly avoiding being run over by a transit car, taking escalators and walkways to make it on time. As she reached the gate they were already boarding the flight and her zone was being called. She knew she had made it, and for a split second she thought about just sitting down and letting the plane take off. She was out of breath, her foot hurt and she was an emotional wreck. Ultimately, it was the thought of Jayme holding her that pushed her feet forward as she showed her boarding pass.

 

Again, Sissy was in the back of the plane, a place she had now gotten used to, but at least she was on a larger flight on this leg of her journey and there wouldn't be another passenger overflowing into her seat, something she hated even though she was thin, she just didn’t like other people to infringe into her space.  She leaned up against the window, peering out into the abyss of her own thoughts. Tears wanted to come to her and she held them back, they were tears of fear and frustration. She didn't know how this would all pan out for her, their relationship or Jayme. And though he didn't believe it, she loved him and was concerned for him. His temper and anxiety were rooted deeply in his soul, at first her love seemed to make him happy, but something had changed in him.  His happiness seemed to be overshadowed by thoughts that she could not control or change and it scared her for him and for their relationship.

 

She sat there quiet throughout the entire flight, only glancing over briefly at the elderly couple sitting next to her and noticed that the gentleman was holding his wife's hand. That small act of reassurance sent her further into her own pain and memories of how Jayme had been like that in the beginning. She longed for that tenderness in him again, that side of him that was about the love. There had been so much anger between them and she was hurt beyond any hurt she had known before. It was hard for her to see past that, past the accusations Jayme had made. He had promised her that if she got on this flight that things would be different and that he wouldn't argue. She wanted so badly to believe him, but her experiences told her that his pain, his past and all the hurt he had felt wouldn't allow him to keep his promise to her.  Her love for him drove her this time, it overshadowed her fears and it gave her hope for she truly wanted to believe in him. She wanted to believe that, as he had told her, they could get past this.

 

Her trust was starting to trail off, and Sissy knew that in her heart; she knew that Jayme could only contain himself for so long. As the pilot announced the impending landing Sissy looked out the window, trying to find a familiar landmark in order to get her bearings, set her mind straight. She struggled to see something, anything that would give her peace of mind, the ability to relax. She couldn't find anything and the apprehension grew inside of her to the point that she felt sick to her stomach. Her heart began to pound as the wheels of the plane hit the ground and then a sense of relief as the pilot announced a brief delay in getting to the gate. Sissy longed to see Jayme, to feel his lips against hers and to know his love, but the fear inside overwhelmed that desire.

 

As the plane slowly approached the gate the pilot announced that passengers could use their phones. Quickly, Sissy turned on her phone and shot a text to Jayme saying she was on the ground, but he already knew that, he had been waiting for her, watching the leader boards for information about the flight. That was the Jayme she knew and loved, the man that was full of anticipation and hope. She thought back to a time he had told her that he slept with hope and faith and she had jokingly laughed and asked him if it had been at the same time. The thought of that day washed the apprehension away from Sissy, for it was on that day that Jayme had given her the most passionate kiss of her life. The thought of sharing another kiss like that with him, to feel his soul and heart fill hers again was all she wanted from him. 

 

Sissy's apprehension began to give way to anticipation, longing to see the man that she adored. Her worries, as she exited the plane and walked through the terminal, we're diminishing with every step she took.  She finally reached the top of the escalator, a place she was vaguely familiar with as it had been from that place nearly two years ago that she first laid eyes on Jayme. She remembered thinking then how handsome he was, how his beautiful heart had come through to his external being. Today, as she stood atop the perch of the escalator she had that same feeling, she knew why she loved him and she knew that she missed him. He smiled at her as he caught her coming down to him and she at him as she was descending once again into his arms. And just as she had two years prior, Sissy felt as if the wings of her angel were wrapped around her, shielding her from the world.

 

Thank you Chris Pierce for the music.

 

 

 

"The times that our emotional gas tanks run empty are the times when we have no explanation for the things that just are."  (me 2015) 

A Love Like No Other

 

 

It was cold and Misty felt the chill in her bones as she laid there in her bed alone.  She reached down and gently pulled up the extra blanket that rested at the foot of the bed for nights just like these.  That blanket only offered her minimal comfort as it wasn’t what she really longed for or needed and it surely hadn’t comforted the emotions inside of her that flowed out in tears.  She knew that there wasn’t much that could help her in that area, she couldn’t turn back the clock this night and make things better; all that she was able to do was watch the minutes tick by as she continued to shiver from the cold and the hurt.

She remembered the nights that she had laid quietly and comfortably in Paul’s arms.  There had been thousands of those nights; she had felt safe and loved with him and through his touch.  She longed for his touch, to hear his breathing and have it lull her into sleep and she laid there trying to find it in her mind’s eye.  Misty also knew that she would never feel that again and she knew that what she had felt with him, the chemistry that they had together could never be had with anyone else.  Her mental diary was afloat with all that they had done together and all that they had been and she prayed for sleep to come so that she could live within the dream of her love for him.

Sleep didn’t come and neither did Paul, he had left her in a way that her rational thoughts knew was lasting.  It wasn’t the rational thoughts that Misty lived in now; it was the dreams and her imagination. She needed them, just as much as she had needed Paul and she hung onto every thread in her mind, weaving together his being as if he were real and there.  She created their walks to the lake, their lazy days on the beach and she created his arms around her.  She closed her eyes and his scent filled her nostrils as if he was beside her.

Misty was the only one there however and she was beside herself in grief and pain.  There was no smile to be had, and even glancing over at his picture on her nightstand brought her to tears.  She tried with diligence to speak to him through that photo, but he did not answer, for he couldn’t.  She touched his face with her fingers and reminded him how deeply she loved him.  She thought about how he never really understood her love for him, nor did she understand his for her.  She wondered why they loved each other so deeply and yet those words were left unsaid at the end.

There were only tears that day, uncontrollable sobbing fits and the inability to accept or recognize the fact that Paul was gone.  He wouldn’t be back and her bed would forever remain empty, just as her heart would remain irreparably broken.  She shut down after that day, partially out of self-preservation and partially because without Paul she felt as if her heart was missing the second beat.  He had completed her in many ways, given her strength when she had none and made her laugh when she wanted to cry.  She had fallen so deeply in love with him that without him her life was meaningless.

Misty couldn’t find any meaning in her loneliness and so she pulled the covers tighter up around her neck, grabbing the picture of Paul off the night stand and bringing it under the covers with her.  It was senseless that he was gone; it was senseless that he had left her like that.  What few friends that she had left had assured her that she would get over it and that the pain would lessen with time, but Misty knew that wasn’t the case.  She knew that she would never get over it and she knew that the hurt inside her was too deep to repair.  Misty knew that the words, “what if”, would plague her until she was no longer. 

Misty reached over and grabbed for another tissue as the tears quietly rolled down her cheeks.  The tears, at that moment, were the only thing that reminded her of what she had lost of who she had lost.  He had been her soul mate and she knew that.  She knew that in some way, even though he did not want to admit it, Paul also knew that.  He had hesitated to tell her he loved her, it hadn’t been his style, but she knew that he did; he had shown her in many ways and many times.  But as the tears flowed she thought about what the police officers said when they had knocked on the door.  The last words he had uttered as they pulled him from the wreckage. At that moment in time, at that very second that Paul knew he could never tell her himself he had asked the Medic to, “Tell Misty I love her like I’ve loved no other.”  And Misty knew that she too had loved him like she had and never would love another.

 

 

Thank You Brent Shuttleworth For The Music