Too often, we identify theft as the simple taking of something tangible. A car, jewelery, an ipod… In best cases, it’s insured and we move on – replacing the item if possible.
Separations and divorce are horrendously different. The irony is, it’s not what’s taken that is the worst part of the crime – it’s what’s left behind.
We’re left with feelings, raw emotions, looping memories and a collection of events that our minds cannot escape. Songs, smells and places remind us of what once was. More often than not, we have to catch ourselves amongst friends from starting every sentence with: ‘Oh he used to love doing this…” and “he really wanted to go there’.
The saying goes: Time heals all wounds. What a lie.
Time, if anything, is the enemy. The natural side-effect of time is to immortalize memory and pain. Some of us, more adept than others are able to suppress or hide from these memories, these individuals possess an enviable skill. Enviable because it is one I lack.
Now, I see another fracture in life to look back on and my trapeze bar moments seem to keep my swinging forward – although it feels more like a moment through the terrifying void between bars, than anything else.
I wonder about recovery and what the next day will look like. Will I be able to sleep on the whole bed? Can I go through a day without thinking of the why’s and what’s. Is there a 12-step program…
“Does he feel this way, too?” I think, as I drive by a place we once shared for breakfast. And would it matter if he did? How is rationale thought and mind so despondent from control of the heart.
Nothing intimidates heartfelt pain.