A Strangling Winter

Other things
When the sand turns to glass, and all that's left is the past, I will love you still.
Other things
Take from me my disbelief
I know it should come easily
But it remains inside of me
It battles and devours me
It cuddles up beside of me
In whispers, it convinces me
Other things
Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.
Other things
As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment. And then the moment was gone.
Other things
If love's a word that you say Then say it, I will listen.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Dear Connor,

Your mother e-mailed me nearly three weeks ago, inviting me to a get-together at your house on the one-year anniversary of your passing. That get-together, in your memory, will be held tomorrow.

It is evening now, and I am seated at my kitchen table trying to deconstruct the myriad of feelings I have about tomorrow. There is a downpour just outside the kitchen window, fitting given the state of my emotions. Nevertheless, I can hardly hear my thoughts for the sound of the raindrops hitting the sill.

Tomorrow, I will make the pilgrimage from city to suburb, carefully crossing county lines to reach your cul-de-sac. It is a familiar journey; one that I have made many times before. Yet this time will be different. This time I will be returning to where we started for the first time since your life ended. And I will be forced to accept the reality of your death. Over the past year I've tried to make my peace with your passing, and I've made it with distance. Tomorrow I will bridge the gap and force myself to accept the fact that you won't be coming home. I will cross that threshold and, for the first time, you won't be there to greet me.

Oh, Connor. All of my happiest memories reside beneath that rooftop, within those walls. It was there that we first came face-to-face. It was there that we shared our first kiss, there that you made love to me for the first time. The promises we made reside there too, the walls their witnesses from yesteryear. I will move within the madness, my stomach tied in old familiar knots as I contemplate the course of our relationship.

Around my neck, I'll wear the trinket I treasure most: the small suede satchel that contains the key to your heart. There is something poetic in having your heart's key rest against my shattered heart. I can still remember the night you gave it to me. I can still see that face I knew, that perfect face illuminated by the flickering candles. I can still smell the incense permeating the air, the sweet scent setting the stage for your declarations of love. You left a part of yourself behind for me, your love laid out in metal. Tomorrow, I will leave a part of myself behind too.


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posted by Aurelie @ 8:14 PM  
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