‘THROUGH GLASS’ SPACES
Stone Sour’s ‘Through Glass’ eases its way into the stillness of the night, awakening me from a serenity that can only be found in dreams. Emptiness fills me to the depth of my soul, as I lie here in a room so full of everything that was you. I finally understand why it was your favorite song, why it kept echoing in my head as you teetered on the edge of consciousness, hovering between this life and what lies beyond. Beckoning to me, demanding to be played at your bedside while I held your hand, and watched the monitor as your heartbeat slowed then cease to exist. I am now the one looking through the glass. I have no sense of time, or space, or reason, unable to see past these four walls filled with everything we once were.
Alone in the stillness of a space where joy no longer exists, a place where only hopelessness and isolation resonates within the void left by your death. I lay in the dark surrounded by the memory of you, desperately longing for your essence that once occupied this space. The laughter, the tears, the fights, the making up, the snoring that kept me up at night. The pain in my chest makes it hard to breathe. I sit up, reaching for your pillow, holding it to my face, stifling my screams of despair, fear, loneliness, anger, grief, self-pity, and utter helplessness. I call to you, begging for you to wake me up from this nightmare I now call my life. I wait for your voice to break through the silence, telling me that everything is going to be okay, urging me to accept the unacceptable.
I reach for your wedding ring that now lay against my breast, next to my heart. I close my eyes, and I wait in the silence. I wait for the lyrics to ‘Through Glass’ to find their way back into the chaos that occupies my mind. As the words begin to play in my head, I feel my troubled soul begin to ease, and I am lolled back to sleep. My dreams are once more filled with memories of you, and I am finally at peace in a space that once again is filled with everything that is you.
Carol’s blogs -A glance into the inner workings of a mind some find to be a little quirky.
Why do I continue to write even though the odds of ever getting published are small, if at all? The answer is a simple one because every once in a while I put pen to paper and create a prose that gives a voice to someone whom can’t find the words to say it themselves. I write from the heart, from my soul. I write open and honest, no longer bound by fear of criticism or rejection.
I was told once that to write well you need to write about what you know. I posted a piece expressing the internal struggle I was going through at that point in my life that my kids were grown and I wasn’t sure what my place was anymore. The feedback I received was unexpected and humbling. I never thought my words could touch so many people. The response was overwhelming, I couldn’t believe how many women it resonated with it was if I had just written their life story.
I figure if I am going to write a blog about the frustration of getting published, I guess it is only fair that I share a little of my writing with those of you who follow me. Shine a little light on who I am. You will find that my writing is a window into my soul. It reflects where I have been, where I am at now, and where I hope to be in the future. So here it goes.
SOMEBODY ELSE’S SOMEONE.
I have spent my life being somebody else’s someone. I’ve quietly settled into the background, content to sit in the shadows, watching as my family became what they were meant to be.
I have been many things a daughter, a wife, and a mother. I’ve never questioned my place in this life. I’ve stood behind my husband, shouldered the burden of raising our children, worried over the bills, and maintained our home, allowing him to focus on his career. Cheering him on as he rose up the ladder of success.
I’ve stayed home to raise my children, this was my choice, not my sacrifice. If given the opportunity to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change the course which I’ve chosen. I know in my heart it was the path I was meant to take. Yet, somewhere in the hustle and bustle of it all, I’ve gotten lost. I look in the mirror and no longer recognize the woman staring back at me. The passages of time have left their mark, the lines on my face, a reflection of my life’s story.
I’ve come to realize that I am entering a new phase of my life. This is not a middle age crisis, but a coming of age. It is my time to become something other than, somebody’s someone. It is time for me to find my wings and fly. Where I am going, and how I am going get there is yet to be determined. But I am looking forward to the journey.