Pain.

 It hurts too badly, yet I can't stop it from coming. The memories flash back in my mind as fast as the sunlight can hit my skin, bringing tears into my eyes as fast as a shooting star in the night sky. Yet unlike the sunlight and the stars in the sky . . . these memories leave only emptiness in their wake. 

The TV. . . . . . Merlin. . . we watched it together because it was the only activity I could think of to do together at the time. He wasn't keen on connecting in other ways, so I suggested we do something he enjoys doing. We watched a whole television series together. He and I.

Bacon. Eggs benedict. As I walk through the store, looking for the ingredients to create new memories with one of my favorite foods to eat with him, I remember back to the times we would make it together. I would save up and splurge a little bit to buy the best kind of bacon. The kind he loved. This time, I wanted to make it for my sisters and I on Valentine's day . . . wanted to make a new memory with it. We made it so often, he and I. 

A hug. One of my friends hugs me and my roommates, thanking us for a gift we have given to him. It's such a wonderful hug. I haven't been hugged that way by a man in a very long time. And I miss it. His arms, wrapped around me, pulling me close, helping me to feel less afraid. I hugged him every chance I got, even after he would relapse, even after we had an argument, even ....that day that I left him. I tried, I gave it my all, I gave him my heart. We used to hug each other, he and I. 

Sometimes the pain comes back with such force that tears are instantly in my eyes. I can't break the memory. The images are too powerful. The feelings so real. Yet someday, when little moments in my life trigger memories and flashbacks, I'll have the capacity to feel them and let them pass through me. . . . Someday, I'll be strong enough to recognize the grief without giving it power over me. For now, I'm trying to be brave and not let it sit inside of me. I'm trying to have courage to talk about it. 

But - the pain, the pain is suffocating. 

The songs I cannot sing

I open my mouth to tell you my dreams,

I try forming words, though futile it seems,

I ask you for aid and offer it back,

I give you my love, though it’s yours that I lack. 

I opened my heart, though clumsily done,

You opened your arms and by dancing, you won

I entrusted my feelings and my heart - nothing less,

Yet wondered...does love truly feel like this?

I wasn’t so sure how to cope with my pain - 

The pain of the distance and love that seemed feigned. 

I hoped that you loved me, though your words cut so deep, 

And I refused to believe that you’d do that to me.

But you did and it hurt. And I wished that instead 

You’d physically wound me than put thoughts in my head. 

My dreaming and singing, it all ceased in time...

I stopped believing that your hand would reach out for mine. 

Though I hoped for connection, no love can be forced,

So my silence and hopeless discouragement got worse...

I know I’m imperfect, if only you could know 

How over and over I’ve wept on my own 

To go back and hug my childlike past

And tell her to trust God, the darkness won’t last.

Yet over and over, I’ve wept on my own 

And wondered, but why did you never come home? 

Didn’t you love me, didn’t you....love me 

I’ve wept and I’ve wept, but you won’t ever see...

I sing now and dream now and open my heart 

And little by little the healing can start 

And yet, there’s a sadness no lyric can compose 

A song I can’t sing... and none but Christ knows.