Years down the line it still feels like it happened years ago. Death comes in all shapes and sizes but this specific death was a blow to my every bone. He had smile and become the man I once loved. He took his time and made me feel loved. He did this as we had planned years ago with a strength of life that I had not seen in years. He cooked my favorite meals and created time for me. He made repairs on long overdue imperfections. He met friends and cleared the year. It felt like he was rebuilding his hay days. Every little ounce of me began to cone alive. He was a great friend and accountable. He made me feel that I had a future and a sense of hope. Little did I know he was setting me up. Mils new I needed support and needed things in order. He thought that I would be fine when he was gone.
How far or how soon could I recover. How was the material world supposed to support me? How could things be better than him. He was a teddy bear with worn out fiber. Worn out or not he was my teddy bear. He held my hand when it felt broken, he nursed me to health when the flue seemed to win. How could he think that his absence could ever be repaired?
Life takes a turn and deep once in a while. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. How overwhelmed I felt having to face all these hard times all alone. Why mourn a person who choose to leave you. Why carry the burden of him memory when he died by his own hand? How could he think death was answer? Questions that crossed every mouth around.
Was I guilty of his loss, should I be sorry for his actions? Why would a culture reduce the shape of his loss? How can I choose a better death? Would he have being a better friend if it was a car accident, a hurt drenching disease. Isn't death death. I was a guilty of his Crimes. I walked around with a frown hold my head high knowing I was just as strong but deep down I died a little more each day. I was alive but withering inside. I could not mourn him nor cry for him.
No, I would not take it no more. I decided to rise up and sing his memory. I choose to appreciate his strength, build his memory for me. He owed no one an explanation. On the contrary he did his level best to create a conducive environment for my future. He may have thrown in the towel but he never allowed me to drown. I was going to build him up. He would be my hero. All this time I spent questioning and judging him I reduced him to a villain. He was a challenger. He fought a war that ate him up and destroyed his insides without destroying those around him. He protected me from his darkness with the strength that he lived with. He was a victim just like I was. It was now my time to make him my hero and forge a way forward.
Yes, we can choose to take all the mad created my tears to build a pot of flowers or just cover it up with sand. I wanted to plant a flower from all the pain I had. ensure that Mils would live on in my life and of those who face the darkness. I would be his advocate and not his judge. I would use his hell to create a heaven for other. Yes, it was time I allowed his loss to be my growth.
My recovery plan would be discussed in my next article.
On this day be the soil that blooms the rose not the acid that destroys it. Allow yourselves to bloom and many more will smell the beauty. Till next time be Blessed
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