When I have been with people of importance who leave my life, rarely if ever am I aware that that last time that I am with them is in fact the last time that I will ever see them. I am not pondering what I might say or do given the fact that this is my last opportunity to speak face-to-face to this person. My last chance. My final goodbye. I am simply enjoying them or struggling with them. Loving them, hating them, or both in the space provided, in their company, anticipating that I will surely see them again. A next time. A do over. Another shot. A chance for redemption. A meeting of the minds. Hunger finally fed. Even if I know our time is finite, I never know with certainty which time will be my last.
Until the aftermath.
The phone rings.
The email arrives.
The text buzzes.
The response never comes….
And the realization hits me that there has been a change of plans.
I am left with a corpse. A change of heart. Plans have been altered. Finances shifted. Tolerances reached. Decisions made. The love has died, and the reality sinks in that the last time I saw that face, those expressions, those eyes looking back at me will be absolutely the last…time.
Perhaps it takes a second, a minute, an hour, a day, three weeks for the pain to hit, swirling from above down through the center of my being to my core. Taking up residence like an angry rooster feeling unheard at dawn, knowing he has been ignored as I run and run faster and faster in an attempt to outwit him.
Feeling myself losing the race as blisters form, sweat runs down my breasts and back, and I stop for a moment to catch my breath.
I hear before I see the hurricane of hurt hit from behind, swinging me around to face it’s fury, and as I stare into a blinding cloud of dark dust and debris, feeling a pain in my belly as if I’ve been stabbed.
Still conscious my mind reels, wondering what I might have done or said differently as I sat with that person that last time to avoid this horrendous overwhelming pain. Is there some action I could have taken, some words I would have spoken had I known to avoid being blindsided and maimed the way I feel now?
Would I have:
Professed my love?
Kissed him more passionately?
Taken back what had been stolen?
Pleaded my case?
Insisted she look me in the eye as she told me that she loved me?
Ask for deliverance?
Stabbed him in the heart?
Begged for mercy?
Turned and walked away?
Convinced him of my worth?
Prevented him from hurting others?
Treated him as he did me?
Gone all the way?
Pleaded for the love I deserved?
Simply screamed, “No”?
And if I had asked for or done these things in an attempt to obtain what I had wanted all along but now would never have from them, would it have even made a difference? Because if they had ever intended to give it to me freely would I not already have it safely in my possession?