Weird Meanderings

Mourning 

He marveled at the feeling of a single tear cascading down his cheek, he had not shed a tear in years. He, up until this point, had thought himself incapable. She had assured that his life was all that she had promised him it would be. She had done everything in her power, and sometimes beyond, to make him happy. She had made it part of her personal mission to protect him from the world’s evil influence. She massaged out any worldly evils that slipped through, with her soft skilled, loving hands. Nightly he would fall into a bliss filled sleep after she would rub him down. He knew he was the most important person in her world, and she in his.      

 Every morning she would awaken before him and painstakingly create the perfect morning, breakfast, coffee the works. Every morning she would reconfirm her love for him. He could not even imagine loving another as he loved her, nor could he imagine anyone loving him as she did.  It felt as though they had been together forever, and they fancied that they had been. He would tell her as much and she would titter like a school girl. He remembered her being there to help him when his dog got hit by a car. It was the first time he had personally experienced the death of something he cared about. He cried like a schoolgirl with a skinned knee, she held him as he wept, crying in sympathy at his heartache.  She cried uncontrollably when he went off to college, sure that this would be the end of them. They had both hoped that there love would last, but neither really believed it, not in this day of age. She was ecstatic when he quit and came back to her. The separation being more than he could bear. She had been shown by this one act that his love for her ran as deeply as hers did for him.  

 She held him, ever the rock, the last time he cried. The day his father passed away. She knew that there was a hole in his heart she would never be able to fill. She merely held him and let him heal. She allowed him to share those wonderful memories of his father watching him heal as he did. Finally, the pain ebbed and he was able get through it. Through it all his love for her grew. Loss of jobs, friends, through insecurities, fears she was there to help him heal quickly, never judging, always supporting. She was so good at shielding him that he lacked the coping skills to deal with the loss that was to come.  

 He had seen it coming, recognizing the signs that she tried to hide. He admired her efforts, she tried hard to shield him from what was happening. It started with her being too tired to message him one night. Soon it was no more breakfast. She had become more and more withdrawn. She barely came out anymore and when she did she was unable to maintain any eye contact with him. She grew thinner, weaker by the day almost. He realized that she was dying. Neither spoke of that which was happening, fearing it and wanting to shield it from the other.  

Before long their roles were reversed. The prospect of having to care for her frightened him more than the prospect of losing her. He had no idea how to care for another person. The more she withdrew in her final weeks, the more he did the same. Years of emotional love and commitment seemingly erased by an inability to cope with each other’s pain. 

 He thought about their last few days together as he rode in the back of the car. He thought about how the weeks of emotional separation washed away as they came together in an effort to give and receive the emotional support that they both needed. They held and comforted each other. 

 He looked up noticing the driver making sure he was ok. He saw the drivers eyes roam over the rearview mirror professionally. No words were exchanged, his job was to grieve and the driver’s job was to let him do so with dignity, and of course, drive. He appreciated the concern and understanding that showed in his eyes. 

 His thoughts drifted back to the last moments they shared together. They laid together just holding each other. He would never forget how she felt against him, her body warm, the feeling of her breath against his neck, the loving look in her eyes. He tenderly kissed her tender lips and they exchanged one last I Love you. He knew he would miss her terribly and that his life would be forever changed without her. He was afraid, but he knew that his thoughts should be on her. He felt her fear, fear of the unknown, fear for he, whom she would leave behind. He told her that she had nothing to fear, he would be all right. He would get by, he told her. 

 He then lovingly slipped the long thin knife he had chosen for the occasion between what he thought to be her fourth and fifth rib. He was wrong, having never killed anyone before, he missed badly. He saw the look of pain and shock register on her face, but not death. In fact she shocked him by beginning to scream, causing him to panic. He repeatedly plunged the knife into her chest, over and over, trying in desperation to stop her screaming. Finally he had a small epiphany, he slit her throat, simply to quiet her. He watched as she gurgled out her last breath and faded. 

 He couldn’t remember much after that except that he had no idea that the human body could house so much blood, or that it would be so hard to kill. He leaned over her after the thrashing had subsided and covered with her precious body fluids he kissed her one last time and said, “I love you mom.” 

Abruptly he was brought back to the present. He felt a little sad about missing the funeral and hoped they would show it on T.V. at the hospital they were taking him to.  

 Even if they don’t, he thought, it sure is a pretty day. 

Peace out Yo