Broken links.. a magpie tale

“Some things are meant to stay together because once broken, they cannot bond back again”. I remember this phrase like it was said yesterday. You told me that when we first met as part of a casual conversation that was flowing from baseball to music. It didn’t have much sense then but somehow it gave me the chills.

What happened next is now history: many days of love, joy, laughter, plans…tears, suffering, pain and more. You told me we were going to be together forever…you promised me that. And here I am now, burning inside, so mad, no, not mad… so furious with you and your broken promises; the first out of many other broken things you left me with.

Trust and loyalty … I trusted you, you asked me to! And I wanted to believe. What do I do with your word now that my words won’t reach you? Even if I yell, if I cry out loud, you can’t hear me. Broken trust my dear, is even worse than a broken heart. A heart that no longer beats but only shivers in a desperate attempt to feel alive, to feel something else besides the piercing pain of betrayal.

A pact…yes we had a pact: we would die together…now what? Here I am mourning you with nothing but the frustration and incapacity of not being able to fix the fact that we are no longer together. No matter how hard I try, you are not with me, not even to start a fight, one of those colossal fights driven by our passionate souls that always ended up with such a feeling of inner peace - the sweet sensation of surrendering to our demons and returning from the darkest place holding hands... carrying our hearts.

Time stopped long time ago; I can’t think of anything but many different ways to make you suffer at least one tiny bit of what I’m feeling. If I could only reach you… if you could only hear me… if I could only trade places with you…if you could only see me once again…if life could be in our hands once again.

But death parted us. Loneliness is my companion, eternity my only plan and this cold grave the place you insist to call my new home. This is me, venting out in a futile attempt to ignore the fact that it was ME who left you alone, that I broke our pact… that I let you down.

And yet here you are, like every November, standing by this old tombstone, tidying things up with your sweet and sour new look, wearing all black. Your eye lines are thicker; your tears carved their way. I am so sorry to see you like this. Please dear, don’t comeback. Don’t join the crowd with their music and tacky flowers. Don’t waste your precious energy in fighting for a parking spot or the last buckets of dirty water for the plants. This tradition is way too painful for you and totally pointless for me… I am not here, this is not who I was. Whatever lies underneath this broken stone, is just a sad reminder that at the end we are nothing but dust and worms. What matters honey, what really matters, stayed inside you when I left – in your memories, in your heart, in the familiar smells that rush back our moments, our days, our time. Try to forgive me for breaking apart… for not proving your words… because we are still together, I am always by your side.

To our beloved ones who left us...because this is how I want to remember and would like to be remembered. November 2 - Dia de Muertos (day of the dead)

This is a Magpie tale - Mag 38 - for other Magpie tales click  Magpie tales