Saturday, May 2, 2015

'Til Death Do Us Part

Love is a very powerful emotion and it is a focus of our lives, she thought walking the dog in the middle of the lonely evening.  The mild yet constant wind cooled her tears like rivers of feelings traveling down her face.  She thought about the TV show which just concluded and preceded her walk with dog.  How wrong the writers were about reality, how terrible an episode it was to watch this tragic portrayal of life. She, with dog cuddled beside her, watched the show, which filled her head with so many thoughts, life isn't like this, however her thoughts still, did not shake the notion "You are better than this Shonda Rhimes, you could have been so much better."

As with the power of love, there is death, another gift of life, and inevitable to us all, her mind continued.  She herself had loved deeply, lost people she held dearly and those who were so close to her, more than once in her life.  As expected, her mind drifted immediately to thoughts of her friend. The one who recently had lost a forever love and she hoped her friend hadn't seen this load of crap of a show. No matter how well one prepares, that depth of love, followed by grief, is never forgiving to those who are left behind, because most, almost all, don't have the luxury of disappearing for a year or more. Grief from the loss of a love was the theme for the episode, and brought back her own personal grief. Having been there, and having done that, those feelings are endless, she thought, constant reminders which swell the heart with knowledge, if I live long enough I will have to endure the feeling of loss again.  Not fair, not fair, not fair.

Dog pulled at his leash and the evening walk continued. It was so beautifully quiet.  She was mindful of the hour knowing only the wicked take to the streets during this hour.  As always, while she loved the quite solitudes, she was fully aware of the dangers the hour paraded in front of her peacefulness. She remembered this challenging feeling, while dog and her were alone and outside. The hum from the nearby freeway was the only reminder of life traveling the road out there, otherwise most were asleep.

The death of a person remains with the living as torn apart memories jogged back into life through the eyes of an episodic TV show writer. She did not like the show, nor the episode before which detailed the death of the character the previous week.  Too many plot malfunctions, very unlike real life, very disappointing from the well known show creator.

Real life is not so kind. Real life forced her to face her losses with tiny, microscopic steps, still appearing before her today, right in front of her, reminding her life has an end. Love has an end. Grief has no end, it is evermore for the living. It is the plot twist that comes in so many real ways and is always a shock regardless knowing it is due to us all. It is a reality she ran from hoping against all odds it could be avoided even though she knew she can't.  The gift of life is a time ticket to death, filled with the sickening sweet element of surprise, now you see her now you don't. Time travel with grief is slow at first, a solitude tantamount to living in a place where fog is a constant weather pattern, broken up only from interruptions of reality requiring one's attention. And yet she drifted into thoughts about hope and those of the living.  

Hope is an endless source of breath for the living, just like in Pandora's box.  After all the hurtful emotions race past Pandora, biting and tearing her flesh, there lies hope, glowing with sunshine, love, warm, soft and tender emotions.  Waiting to be held, to be brought back close to the heart, to mend the heart, to remind her there is meaning in death, the feeling of goodness will come from all of this, however she knew it really doesn't.  Death is death.  Life ends, taking with it every chance to share that next wonderful moment of life. To drift forward alone and without. Watching new life emerge, growing up never knowing those who traveled before these new lives begin, because a death of a person eventually goes unnoticed, a history without impact worthy of history books. A life will fade unless someone shouts they existed, and she shouted, "I exist, I am worthy, he was worthy." 

A light in a window turned on. She forgot the hour was late and her shouting woke up a sleeper. Dog jumped at her voice, tugging at the leash and she turned back to go home. "Yeah Shonda, I get what you wanted to impart to your viewers, but it could of been better, so much better than what you wrote."

Dog bounced up the stairs, waiting half way for her to disconnect the leash and then racing up to the top, smiling back down at her when he reached the landing.  Her slow climb to reach the door was a quiet game they played after every walk.  Dog loved her so and she him. Together they were a happy team of time travelers, living out a story for all to see another day.

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