Pain all over. Pain from weeping. Pain from not eating. Pain from grief. Grief from not having foresight, self-control, or the inability to escape a relapse into a dark place. Grief all over.
Grief from the pain I caused.
Pain from the grief I've accumulated
in what apparently has been five days, but feels like one instant moment.
When you're broken you've got nothing to do but pick up the pieces and try your best to get back together. Ultimately, time will claim stake in the majority of your battle, but what do you do while time is diligently at work?
I recall this dark and dreary spring weather. The sun shines for what seems like the first time since pools began to close for the fall. Birds are louder. Insects are louder. Nature's music is playing the sweet song...of a funeral. I've never heard anyone complain about the weather at a funeral. Not that I've been to an actual funeral since I was five, but I'm just assuming, that for all practical purposes, cloudy with a 100% chance of rain is all that anyone could hope for. As I sit outside on this sunny day, passersby seemingly all mutter "Sure is beautiful out today," and it infectiously enters my brain, escaping all surrounding noises, numbness, and general inattentiveness. As if to suggest that for being such an asshole, I have on less beautiful day to enjoy.
I'm hoping for rain. So all the selfish, parading college students with hopeless optimism will run to their classes, cars, or umbrellas. And myself, and the other people attending funerals will walk patiently amongst each other, without the slightest inclination we are wet, cold, shivering, and ruining our laptops. We may or may not have a destination. Maybe the few of us are still amidst the funeral procession, each proceeded by an invisible hearse bearing whatever is left of our exes. Nevertheless, passersby will be struck with a false sense of kindness and civility as they put on their sorry-you-didn't-bring-an-umbrella face.
----------
Months later, after time has done its formidable best to prevent pain and grief from consuming me, I'll catch myself in a predicament. Unexpectedly, rain has swooped in and now ferociously pounds upon the entire parking lot. Leaves and twigs swirl by. Trees all curve at the same slight angle. The occasional, reluctant few, begrudgingly make a dash for their car reminiscent of frogs and turtles leaping into water when you approach them. Some leapers are family men, pretending to be concerned for their family's dryness. Truthfully, the rain has given them extra alone time and a temporary purpose. Some leapers are adolescents that without hesitation unitedly scream "Go," and race one another to their vehicle. Then there are those that stay behind, waiting on their valet, seeking shelter and making commentary about the intensity of the downpour.
As I'm watching the frenzy from afar, some lady's umbrella gets folded inside out by the storm. For this downpour is more magnificent than the 21st century umbrella can endure! And with the audience in suspense, awaiting my leap, awaiting my rain-inspired panic, I'll calmly tuck my hands into my jeans and proceed forth unabashedly. With every ounce of my energy and emotion gravitating towards one not-so-distant thought...
"One less beautiful day for them to enjoy."
No comments:
Post a Comment