Some deaths come mercifully quick. An easy laying down of a soul, and others suffer from the slow and painful rotting of a thing. It is a cruel fate. Constantly watching over it, looking for signs of improvement only to have those small joys slip away as time and time again, more decay of a soul is found out. While discussing this very thing, the aching loss of a friendship long held and deeply loved, that the truth of the this was revealed. I shied away, of course I did...laying it down to words ill conceived, but no. In that unguarded moment the truth was laid bare between us and I refused to see. It is hard to let go of those you have come to love, even as you know they wish you harm.
Coming around in my time of despair, as any loyal friend would do. However, the questions were not out of concern for my welfare, but rather she was measuring my death shroud. There were inquiries as to my state of being...how had I not crumbled...I must be so close to the edge. Did I ever think of bringing an end to it all? I wondered at this, my dear friend readying the chisel for my grave stone... I assured my soul's mate that my mind was sound. I was in no danger of leaving this world earlier than God's call for me hastened me home. This took her aback, as if in my ability to draw in breath was an insulting to polite society. Why was I not preparing for my own demise? How could I be so strong, so stubborn in my desire to continue on. It is not a matter of strength, for even the mighty have cracks. It is merely that I believe that the Lord's hand is in all things and I will stand in the center of this storm and wait on Him. It is always a sad thing to see a truth hidden in a well crafted lie. The discoveries we would rather not make.
I could not properly heal unless I took stock of the wounds. The ones self inflicted and those created by them that I love most. I will mourn the loss of what I had believed was so and grudgingly honor the truth born out of great emotional suffering. So my dear never friend, I am wounded. I bleed. However do not gather up your lies, as lilies to lay on my cold grave. I am not there. I apologize for the disappointment, carry on with wake, but know I will not be in attendance. I have no anger for you, only immense sorrow and pity. So intent on striking me down were you that you became careless with your long handled sickle. If you would only take measure of your own soul you will find there lies your greatest successes of destruction. Surely not your intent and yet your greatest achievement thus far the ruination of one's own soul so completely that you forgot it ever was.