"The Lily Among the Thorns"
Loss puts everything into perspective. All the things that you think you need, but realize that you don't. The little things that used to matter so much, coasters on the coffee table, which drawer the forks and spoons were sorted into. They don't matter anymore when confronted with Loss.
Loss isn't a state of mind either. It's not something that you can put away in the back of your mind and forget about. No. It's vivid. Real. Constantly stabbing you, ripping through your heart over and over again.
You realize what really matters. The little things you should have said, should have done. Then the guilt starts. Maybe you could have done something to prevent it. Maybe, just maybe if I hadn't broken up with him, this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe if I hadn't yelled at her to stop being such a slob, she would still be here.
Loss can be anything. The loss of a close friend, of a special item, a relationship. But the greatest loss, is death.
That loss never leaves you. It's been 5 years to the day, and I still feel the pain like it was yesterday. I still visit them. Sometimes I sit for hours with them, talking to them, listening to the wind, imagining their responses. At night I still feel his body next to mine, only to find him gone. I shall always miss them. I shall always miss my James and my Harry.
Lily sat back at her desk and looked at what she had written. She wiped tears from her eyes as she closed them. James and Harry. It seemed like just yesterday they were all a happy family.
Sometimes I wish that He had come earlier, that He had killed all of us when we were younger, less in need of family. Sometimes I wish that my dream of Him killing all of us when Harry was a child would be real, and I wouldn't have to live through this pain.
Sometimes I lie awake at night, thinking of that night they were both drafted, wishing I had stopped it. I know things would have been different. If they had hidden like I told them to. They wouldn't, they were both man enough to stand up and fight for what they believed in. They didn't know how it would end. On these lonely nights I stare at my ceiling and wish that I would wake up, and they'd be back with me. James would be next to me, and Harry would be at School. But always I know it can't happen. This is the hand I was dealt, and now I have to play it. For Better of For Worse, I have to play it.
"It was that stupid draft!" she yelled in anguish to no one in particular. She pounded the desk and the tears started to flow, "It was that stupid, stupid draft…" She slumped onto the desk, too exhausted with emotions to write anymore. She was too much in pain to care. More tears came to her eyes and landed, splotching the paper she was writing on. She wiped the paper of tears.
Life deals you cruel hands sometimes. It's hard to believe that more often then not, you're expected to simply move on. Deal with it. But you can't. It's impossible. It will always be there with you in everything that you do. The pain. The sadness. It will stay with you until you find a way to heal. Find a way to heal naturally and be at peace with what happened.
As she wrote the tears came pouring out of her again.
This is my healing process.
She sat back again at her desk and wiped her eyes, she gathered the paper into a pile, and stood. The rest would be for tomorrow. She would take it one step at a time. One bit at a time to tell her story from the beginning to end. From life, to death.