My confession.

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I am guilty.

It is not your normal, regular, run-of-the-mill, kind of guilt.

This is far, far more…incomprehensible. One, which is as impossible to escape from, as it was to have been entrapped within.

You see, I loved him.

Once.

That once, now seems so long ago it never truly belonged to me; which in all reality I do not suppose it did.

All I had, as you may have now, is the belief life would keep its promise.

I never asked for anything more than was possible; I never asked for the fairy-tale ‘happily-ever-after’.

I was not so foolish to think such things exist.

But, I did want it to last longer.

Yet still he has been taken from me, inexorably, imperceptibly, little by little, piece by piece; until there is nothing left but a thin parchment of skin hanging onto a frame of crumbling bones.

My love is in mourning for this body’s previous tenant, the man who was part of me, of who I am, my husband, my lover, my best friend.

I fear each day that passes I should forget his voice, of how his hands once held me firm. I fear of losing the sound of his laughter, the remembrance of deeply breathing in his scent. These things are only with me now as past memory. 

I worry they too will be stolen from me, now someone else is living in his body.

I feel nothing for this interloper. I do not know him. I have never known him and have no wish to know him. That is why there is a distance between us, one which stretches much farther than the few inches apparent to the casual observer.

Yet there are social expectations which I must meet. So, I simply ‘go through the motions’, to satisfy the anticipations of others.

This is the guilt I carry, the burden which weighs heavily upon my soul, a guilt I have no way to assuage.

This is my confession.

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© Paul White 2017

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2 thoughts on “My confession.

  1. I know this kind of guilt; I’ve tended my Mom for 6 difficult years after she had a heavy stroke. I went from rage to numbness and finally closing down my pain in order to preserve my necessary strength to help what was left of the person once she used to be and to keep as much of my sanity as I could in order to support the rest of my family. I’ve also chosen to put a certain distance between Mom and me because I was afraid of crying myself to pieces watching her inexorably deteriorating despite my best efforts. Yet it was easier for me than to you. Because loosing the one who imprinted our life with LOVE is shattering our inner fabric . You have expressed it so well that I am lost for better words.
    So what more can I say? Whatever you feel, you are entitled to it. You owe nothing to society and whatever you do, you are doing it because it’s in your nature. If I can lift just a tiny bit of your inner burden, then know that somewhere in this world someone knows about it and holds your hand to help you to keep going.

    Like

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