she talks to angels…

Bennie used to say that he thought of me when he heard this song. He said I was just like that girl being sung about, because I, too, carried the hair of an innocent in a charm that contained the elements of our environment, and a bit of our life force. I still do. Only now, it’s his hair in my charm, and tears of grief to embrace it. There is life essence and a prayer inside, as well. It hangs in a beautiful bottle from my rear view mirror, so that he can go where I go. I try as hard as I can to contain the things that the charm represents within it. Even so, and for whatever reason, I don’t expect to be letting him go any time soon, though it would be a dream come true.

The truth about charms is that they only work if you believe, and if those beliefs are reasonable, at that. I’ve no such reasonable beliefs. And, grief…it doesn’t limit itself to the stages assigned to it. It has its way whenever it wants its way, just like Bennie did. It is a torturous process that each one of us will endure, or be the object of, sooner or later. I close my eyes, sometimes, and try to imagine the face of grief. It’s hideous and twisted and snarling. It isn’t a dragon to be slain. It’s no wild beast that will, eventually, live out its own life and fall away. Grief exists in a vacuum, determining its own rules of engagement and its outfit is replete with all things needed to attack and attack until it leaves you broken. Though I see no end in sight, I do believe that, one day, I’ll wake up and I won’t even recall his name. Every day I wake up is one step closer to that day.

While there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it is dim, at best. But, it’s there, no less. At this point, I cannot honestly say I’ve gone through the ‘stages of grief’. The situation is a complicated one. Every day, I ask myself what sort of prisoner cries over the loss of her captor after being set free? It makes no sense. But, our hearts aren’t designed to make sense; that’s a job for our brains. As most people know, the heart always wins out. I think that makes life as beautiful as it does painful. It’s the human condition…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.