Monday, December 04, 2017

For whom the bell tolls

Ebony has been playing on my mind more than usual. I wonder who says you ever heal from the deaths of those you love. You don't. Your heart is riven and it stays riven. It heals but it heals riven, misshapen, always identified by the loss.

I don't know why. I have no idea. I am diminished and diminished and every death diminishes me further. The people who are actual around me become phantom, shadows, not quite real, not quite there and I want to be with myself and my cats, my babies, hugging them to me, being with them, and with my thoughts, and with my pain.

It's like hugging shards of broken glass, these painful feelings that don't quite go away, so you are ever-conscious of the sting, and your eyes fill up at faint suggestions of the things you once had, which you have now lost for good.

This is the end of my holiday and I'm not sad about that because I can't wait to see my cats again. But my flight was unaccountably delayed for so long that I had to spend the night in Singapore, and instead of going to the hotel they had assigned me to, I remained at the airport, the in-between place and watched various versions of A Christmas Carol and wept at each of them.

I am the Scrooge of the hard heart. Isn't it easy to let your heart ice over? Isn't it easy to fall into hate? Into evil feelings, a lack of love?

Isn't it easy to lie down and stop breathing....but no, the cats, the Christmas tree that is now up, the words I have yet to write, the people depending on me.

I wish I didn't feel so alone.

I have no idea why I feel this way.

I wish I could stop crying.

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