Ending

Life simply just does not exist here – where I am.

I am not used to living this way.  My whole life I’ve had living things around me in my home, my life, etc.

This is like living in some hotel with no personality or personal effects.  Actually, it is worse than living in a hotel because a hotel would have more personal effects and furniture.

I understand now why people don’t want to live in a place where they share walls with other people.

Looking for a photograph today, I came across pictures of me as a child reminding me of the very real pain that I can never bear children.  I couldn’t help thinking I would have had beautiful children.  A part of me I will not be able to have carry on.

Something else, looking at myself through the years – if no one else could – I saw the changes that happened.  My early childhood you could see the innocence, pure joy, and happiness not only on my face, but it affected others in the photographs as well.

Then, we moved.

Dramatically my face changed and altered.  Whether or not I was smiling my face is burdened with weight.

The first time we moved it was because my father had decided he was going to go to seminary school.  He didn’t even last a semester before dropping out entirely and never returned to school again.

The greatest memory of that time I have is him teaching my brother and I the Greek alphabet.  Quite honestly, I’m not sure he taught us, or I persisted in knowing about what he was doing until he thought of something that would keep me quiet.

We had a life and a home before we moved.  It takes years to build a life and a home.  People, friends, family members, and a home which is more than just things.  It is the memories you build and keep building your life around.

The move was very dramatic.  The strain on my parents marriage never seemed to leave me or my face.

I know my mother did not wish to die married to my father.  Decades she tried to divorce him.  Churches convincing her it was her duty as a christian woman to stay married.  Even after her strokes what she wrote about endlessly was divorcing and being divorced from my father.

I believe she decided in her heart that she was divorced.

No one but my brother might understand the truth I am writing.

My mother did not want to die married to my father.

In a way, I feel I let her down since I was not able to help her carry out her wish for a divorce.

My father should have divorced my mother since they did not live as husband and wife since I was very young.  He has/had many other women if not families.  He knew she did not wish to stay married to him –  he chose the cowards way and did nothing.  More importantly, he chose not to honor her wishes.

The sins of the parents, the problems they try to cover up in their marriage do not exist with just two people.  It affects the entire family outside even the immediate.

Problems in a marriage cannot be fixed quickly, but if and when problems in a marriage happen and they cannot be fixed leaving the problems to fester and cause further damage creates a ripple effect through the whole of society.  Like open wounds that ooze and puss, a band-aid will neither heal or help them.

A divorce probably would have meant other problems.  However, not addressing a problem, pretending what is real is not real and what isn’t real is real, not listening to the problem or concern, not taking your own ego out of the equation to hear the other person even if it is at the expense of your own heartbreak it is nothing more than a childish and juvenile notion of marriage and love.

When an ending needs to happen choosing to pretend otherwise is damaging for all persons involved.  It can also create some serious fatalities.

I have loved more than one man even at the expense of my own heartbreak.  Because as long as he was happy and had a full life, how could I not be happy for him in return?!

Perhaps not everyone loves the way I do – deeply and profoundly.

When it is real – it is real.  When it is not, no matter how many times you try asking it will never be.

Love and marriage can never be a metaphor – for there is no truth that can live in a metaphor.

Here I am absolutely isolated from the entire world.  It is an existence that has no depth or dimension.  I would never purposely choose this life, nor would I ever chose to give this life to any person.

My reality altered the day I understood the store I was working in was not real.  Since then, I see no possibility for a future, or happiness, or a life.  For it is not possible with this existence.

The day that car crashed into mine has altered me dramatically.

I will not continue to believe in a virtual possibility.  I know for certain, I cannot continue the same way the last few years have gone.

I feel my days are numbered.  I feel the end of my existence ever closer.  I feel a door closing where there should be a future.  That is a problem for me, as I have never lived without planning and having plans for the future – that has all gone from me long ago.