I feel the heavy iron foot of grief kicking through my chest cavity. My shoulders are clamped to the floor and my breath short-circuits every so often.
There is nothing left to do at this point, but feel it through until it’s all felt.
I have my last round of grants due before this Saturday, but I can’t muster the want, will, or care to finish them.
I’ve hurt somebody and they’re hurting and I’m hurting over their hurt and there’s nothing else to do about it.
I could go into the details of a tender romance cut off at the roots, but I don’t think that fair to her or me or, quite frankly, even want to rehash what has been buried by the shovels of yesterday.
She’s a beautiful, lovely, and remarkable woman going through a great yet difficult period of self-realization. A walk I can’t accompany her on because it would prove far too painful for me. My young face hides old tired bones.
Therefore, with sincere love and respect, I parted ways. Thus, two people far from being strangers are strangers in the world again.
All I can do now is pray. Pray that she finds the comfort, refuge, and love best suited to her. Pray that I find the comfort, refuge, and love best suited to me.
And Sulk: No bathing and No smiling. Ugly sweaters wrapped in too many blankets. Acerbic jokes and sighs.
Praying & Sulking Wednesday: Releasing all people, places, and things (including my “control” over them) to the invisible omnipotent Powers that be.
Yes, I’ll pray and sulk. I’ll also take solace in the fact that we were brazenly sincere, passionate, and caring toward one another the entire way.
That’s all there’s left to do for now.
Goodbye, Sweetness …
“If thou shouldst never see my face again, pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.” — Alfred, Lord Tennyson