Boo

Les gens qui ne rient jamais ne sont pas des gens sérieux

Be who you are and say what you mean, those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind

Monday, December 17, 2007

the recurring goodbye

I suppose it would have been worse if that first goodbye had been brief and breezy. But seeing a face you love crumple in grief is like someone taking a grater to raw skin. All the rational decisions we took together, all the reasoning and discussing and agreeing, it all fades and we grab at each other, unseeing through smeary eyes, wanting to stop it now. Enough. Let's go back to the simple, steady life of before.

The second time, another Sunday, another week gone, we expect it to be better. We've been fine, kept talking, kept reassuring. We've caught up, chewed over it all, and are still on track. We are strong enough for this so let's do it. Both our coats of armour disintegrate as the time approaches. The gate clicks behind me, I turn and he waves. The lump in my throat rises and only subsides as the tears flow.

By the third week, it should be routine. Until the last minute we are positive and smiley. We talk of the next time, the things we'll do, the extra days we'll have. His arms are pulled tight around me and I want just a few more seconds. Not yet. One last press of his warm lips and he's gone.

How many more of these do we have to get through?

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