Learning the truth just shakes your delusions, walking forever in faith, never drawing conclusions; the where abouts of my future, now crumbling before my eyes. It was implanted, life after death, there is no such thing as death; well what is death anyway, they say; merely an alternative existence. One in which you are just as invisible as the one you carried on in- in life. But what is life? Life is what you make it they say. Life is what they’ve made it when you’re gone.
What is life, I beg of you to tell me, because knowing the truth that I know now, my path washed from before me, Im lost. Im washed-away with every conclusion I had ever drawn, every new dawn menacing and more imposing than the last. The last how long will it be, before I am made to see, the truth, the reality.
It’s complicated to be understanding, while I try to wrap my mind around the knowledge of death, and of life, while now knowing everything I had thought I knew was only to get me through, until I learned the truth; and through you, the dying one, I knew... I got the chance to see life through your eyes and watch death as it clutched hard and fast to your frail shoulders. I came to realize the lies I had based my life and banked my future on, like a fool.
A fool, refusing to be informed, refusing to conform, denying reality to her cold hearted face. I've raced the race, competed and tried, and denied, and where have I been running to all of this time? Competing with whom, I pray of you, tell me. Because, now... Now I am listening with reverence, a broken soul, to the truth. I have no choice. It’s in my face, I’m in my place, just tell me now…
Truth, it has a sting to it. A bite that with its imminent pain slowly creeps in, festers and explodes, making itself known; and you become so changed- there is never any going back, to being the same. The truth. A long look in the hypothetical mirror. Peering and staring, the ugly truth rearing its head raised poised, ready to strike, ready to fight. I’m trying to find a hint, trying to catch a glimpse of what is left when you've left, what's left is the truth. The facts, when you are gone you are gone, there is nothing and that is why you see nothing, stare and try as you might, even if it fail you, your sight-still you are in as much darkness as when you could see. The only thing still screaming, possibly, is faith.
And, I've none. None other than the faithful one, shunning the facts. Refusing to believe them when they say-shaking their heads; there is nothing more we can do. Accept the truth. The truth is she is gone. And, I didn't believe them! I didn't! Momma, I didn't believe them. I said NO! There is something you haven't done. Somewhere, you've gone wrong. There is a specialist, there is a hospital with the technology. There is something- I sobbed through my fingers.