November 15

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Light a candle, say a prayer and wish for something that will never be.

Submitted: November 14, 2008

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Submitted: November 14, 2008

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November 15th

As I make my way into the church I choke back the sinking feeling into the pit of my stomach. I am here now, in the moment and the tears begin to flow from my eyes. It is close, so close I can hardly bare the thought. I try to push it away as I walk towards the alter. Light a candle, say a prayer and wish for something that will never be. I stand now waiting, wondering, believing. But what do you say to someone who isn’t here? What do you tell the man you love; after so many years have passed? November 15th is coming as it does every year and will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life.

I watch the wick flicker as it burns, just like the steady string of my life. Unchanging and constant, what once was, will never be. I lost myself then and I question the person I have become. How could losing him, change me so much?

They say time heals the pain, I wish that were true. I nod my head and remember you. Memories surface in my mind of a time so long ago. You guided me through the hardness that was my life, loved me, cared for me the only way you knew how. Denial helps ease the pain, but it doesn’t take it away. Some things are concrete, others are vague almost lost to reality. I don’t remember how you moved or the sound of your voice, but if you called my name I would recognize you in an instant. Gone are the days of innocence and childhood, I welcome the mundane that is my life. I stand now watching, what once burned so bright is about to extinguish itself into darkness.

I turn away and walk towards the exit. I’ve been here, stuck in this place too long. I need an escape, I don’t like the way I feel right now. I push the church doors open, the starry sky catches my gaze. Tracing the stars with my eyes I focus on the moon. A welcoming token, a sentiment of loneliness in the sky; its rounded curves form a never-ending circle. It’s as it should be.

I look back at the church, descending the steps. It will be a long time before I enter here again.


© Copyright 2018 Katherine Taylor. All rights reserved.

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