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UNBIDDEN

It's been so long. I suppose in some mixed-up backward way I thought this would get easier with time. I thought the memories would fade. I never once considered that maybe during the struggle when I was deliberately keeping thoughts of him at bay, by staying busy, by kissing other lips, that I was just delaying the inevitable. And now that there is no longer the distraction of a looming battle, memories of him rise unbidden in my mind.

I cannot get through a single day without seeing his face, masking a stranger's or at the back of my mind. There is not a day that passes that I don't regret not still having him at my side.

I can sit and squander nights contemplating the loss of him. It pains me to this day. I can sit and sigh away, forever berating myself for not being able to give him more even when I felt it. And I want to forgive myself for holding back, for preserving the pieces of a hastily strung together heart, but I can't. Because I feel in my soul it's the biggest mistake I've ever made. And until something good comes out of this catastrophe, I'll never be able to see the wisdom of that choice.

So I cling to him and these precious memories. His face is clearer in my mind than ever. I can see images and moments that I thought I'd forgotten. I thought the stain of him had faded away, but with each wear the color glows brighter and stronger than ever before. What I was once blind to has become haunting in its clarity.

The strength and intensity of all these emotions, these passions, these memories makes me want to believe that I'm meant for this, for him, for this promise. But the skeptic in me raises its eyebrows and scoffs that it's all brought on by emptiness, loneliness, and fear. And I am terrified that maybe I've turned in my last token and taken my last ride.

If these memories were faded and these poignant wails muted, would I feel this surety (this rightness) in my bones? Is it only the acuity of this interlude that convicts me?

Why can't I just logically pack this away like I packed the suitcase of past ventures, as I carefully taped up the box of past history? Why do I insist on playing this reel of regret over and over again - tormenting myself with it nightly and yet satisfying my soul just the same?

I want to scream to the world. I want to shout too late the things I should have acknowledged so rightly before. He was worth every risk I wasn't willing to take. He was worth every pain I ever endured. He was worth more than every wound I ever inflicted.

And so I watch the hours tick by on the clock. I see the days frittered away. Moving one foot in front of the other watching as the world passes by and I stew in my regret. Nothing holds any meaning. I do it only because there is nothing else. And until I get my heart's desire or something to fill its place, I shall suffer this ambiguity.

Learn more about this author, Sonia Ordoyne.
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