My Sweet Deifiúr …
A difficult day…this one.
I have been absent from this place for the longest amount of time since
the first time I put words on a page that I desired someone else to read. My fingers, while functioning perfectly, have
not been able to find the right keys, and my mind has not been able to find the
right words. When I look at the
instrument at which I now sit, it looks as if a foreign object has invaded my
Sanctum Sanctorum. Like some sort of
mystical creature lurking on my desk ready to wreak destruction to my already
broken heart. I am grieving and have
absolutely no idea where I am in the grief process, or if I will ever get out
of this dark place.
My Sweet Deifiúr, Paula, was born on this day and went to
live with My Dear Sainted Mother and Jesus on April 16th of this
year.
In the last 140 days I have glanced at this instrument with
disdain. I have circumnavigated the 3 or
400 channels I have on the contraption sitting across from my all too
comfortable easy chair with the electric lift motor. I have meandered around the net on my smart
phone and, more recently, on the new Nexus Notepad I received as a gift. These devices allow me to journey anywhere
the internet may take me while never leaving the comfort and ease of my sloth.
It is time to get off my big dumb lazy Irish posterior end and write.
It is a dishonor to the memory of my hero that I am not
writing. She championed my abilities,
and encouraged me to pursue the shaky dream of being a fulltime writer. She called me and told me I was amazing. She told all her friends that her brother was
a published author and giggled like a little girl the day I sent her link to a
short story contest I had won. “Award
Winning Writer” became a term she added to all the other accolades she heaped
upon my scribbling’s. When difficult
times arrived for me, she told me that the first royalty check will fix all my
money problems. She was and is my muse
and I deeply regret my denial of those talents she believed I have. I must get back on the metaphorical
horse. To do any less would be to
dishonor her beliefs and the love she had and has for me.
It is time for me to grow up.
Among other things I have used to keep me away from that
which I love more than anything is the feeling that I am now alone in the
universe. That there will be an unmarked
grave in a Potter’s field somewhere that would prevent Paula from finding me
and taking me home. As absurd as this
may sound, it is, a feeling and emotion I have been battling. It is also, completely false and profoundly
dangerous for me to grasp onto.
I spent the last weekend with the family of what is, in
actuality, my older brother, John. We
were raised together and bear no blood relation. We do share the emotion and belief that we
are family…a feeling that has unburdened my heart greatly. Captain Domesticado, Paula’s husband sent me
a message today that we need to stay strong.
We were the closest two people to Paula and continuing to keep each
other in our respective lives would be just what Paula would want. Thankfully, it is most assuredly what we wish
also.
Maintaining the lethargy has been exhausting. As I languish in my feeble attempt to
distance myself from the rest of the world, I have come (once more) to realize
what is important, love and understanding.
Paula gave me as much of that as any human could possibly disperse. I took all that was given me. It is time to give it back. Help me Lord, to reject my idleness and
despicable behavior. Forgive me my sloth
and show me how best honor my hero.
Goodnight Paula…I love you.
By T. Lloyd Reilly
T. Lloyd Reilly is a writer and former school teacher with over twenty five years of writing experience. He has lived what some would consider more than one lifetime and have gained a wide range of knowledge and life experience which he wishes to share through generous application of the written word. His writing is eclectically diverse crossing many genres. Further examples of his writing can be found at:
“We don't need lists of rights and wrongs, tables of dos and don'ts; we need books, time, and silence. Thou shalt not is soon forgotten, but Once upon a time lasts forever.”
— Philip Pullman
— Philip Pullman
8 comments:
A very moving post...All I can say, is that you have reached the right and only decision in this difficult moment for you. You have a talent - writing - and it is waiting for you to use it again!
What a beautiful expression of very understandable feelings. I lost my dear brother, and experienced similar emotions. But no two are exactly alike, so no one can truly understand your pain. However, we can feel compassion and pray for your peace, as I do now.
God bless you as you return to your gift of writing.
You have honored the one you are grieving with your beautiful words here. Words she would have championed if they were about someone else! May your Spirit be comforted and your heart find peace.
I echo the other comments. What a beautiful tribute to your loved one. Writing will be an honor to her and healing for you.
Thanks for sharing!
This is very emotional, and very sensitive and touching. I do feel with you.
And I promise you: One day, you'll be smiling again... one day, you'll see the light again... and one day, even though you'll ever keep a place in your heart for this special love, you will find life worth living again!
Until then, find comfort in your writing. It will help!
Isaias 60, 5
I find your muse gives me the power to move forward.
Captain Domesticado
Your article brought back a big lump in my throat and tears to my eyes. I have been where you are and my only way out was to write. Sometimes when I read what I had written I didn't remember writing it. However, my dark place produced my first book. Sometimes I couldn't even see the keys for the tears.
May God lift you up and give you peace in the memories of your loved one...and help you to keep on writing!
A.Bergman
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