Yesterday was one of those days again. It was a cold and rainy day to begin with. I love it when it rains. Specially when I can sit at my desk with a cup of coffee and write. The sound of the rain is like a muse to me. Unfortunately it wasn’t so this time.
I had dreamt the night before that I was in a movie theatre and that my husband had come and sat beside me only to disappear again. And I had woken up looking for him, only realizing that I will never see him again or hear his voice. And that he has disappeared for good. And that hurt.
So I tried to not think about my dream. I tried to ignore my heart’s pleas. I even drove a long way to attend a book sale only to notice that the line was too long and it was cold and raining and I didn’t want to stand in line alone. Disappointed and even sadder I drove back home. When my kids asked me if I was okay I answered yes of course I was okay.
“Nobody even imagines how well one can lie about the state of one’s own heart.” Yukio Mishima
I have stopped asking why did it happen but I still wonder what the hell did happen that day. It was so quick and so unexpected. As hard as I try to, to this day I just can’t understand what happened. Some days are easier than others. I guess yesterday was not an easy day.
But having such a horrible experience has left me wondering about my purpose in this life. Everyone has a role to play and spending so much time in solitude has made me find myself again. There were times in my life when I was too busy working and taking care of my home and family that I didn’t have time to enjoy life. I was too worn out from everyday burdens and tasks to look around and appreciate nature and its beauty and be grateful for all the people and the things I had. I took it all for granted. As Nelson Mandela writes,
“It is never my custom to use words lightly. If twenty-seven years in prison have done anything to us, it was to use the silence of solitude to make us understand how precious words are and how real speech is in its impact on the way people live and die.”
I wish that I could go back in time and say the things I wanted to say but never did because I was too busy making a living. I wish I could travel back in time only to tell the people who are no longer with me how much they mattered to me. To tell them how much I loved and appreciated their presence in my life. But then again:
“I am a writer which, of course, is just another way of saying: I live in my own strange fantasy world filled with unrealistic expectations. Thank you for understanding.”