Last night I was picked up outside my apartment by a taxi at 8:45pm, I didn’t arrive at my destination (8 miles away) until just before 10pm. In that hour the taxi bus endured several pick ups and drop offs, during which I was seated as the front passenger.
The driver had a noticeable stutter and tendency to skip about his thoughts without a strong sense of chronology. He was very open and told me all about his ex wife who had just died that morning of an unexpected brain aneurism at the age of 48. He told me how, although they’ve been divorced for nineteen years and he wasn’t particularly fond of her, he still felt a sting at the news.
He proceeded to explain all the times in court, custody battles and such, when he had audibly wished ‘that bitch would drop dead’ but now that she has done just that he cannot bear to see his children mourning the loss of their mother. His face cringed in seeming pain at the mention of their two (yes, married and divorced twice) bitter break ups. After a more in depth explanation of the deceased woman he kept repeating that she had a hard life and didn’t have a happy childhood. This woman was constantly haunted by her fear of abandonment which he admitted aiding on multiple occasions in their relationship.
What I found most interesting were his descriptions of the way his daughter and two sons reacted to the death of their mother as individuals. In some form or another the strongest responses they each seemed to have were those associated closely with guilt. The oldest son hadn’t been on very friendly terms with his mother for some time and expressed his regret at not having spent more time with her before her sudden death. The daughter felt she contributed to her mother’s stress and sadness because she didn’t put much effort into being a good child and spent most of her time with her father when given the choice. The youngest son is twenty-years-old and was extremely close to his mother. He spent almost an hour, after watching her die, brushing her hair and talking to her. He lamented his inability to fix the situation and the loss of comfort he knew he could never provide for his just passed parent.
.Guilt. This is a thing that inhabits the darkest and most broken corners of my mentality. It cripples me, holds me down, suffocates my opportunities and strips away at my sense of sanity. It’s what makes a bad trip into a near death experience and instills fear in the seeds of my potential. Attempt after attempt to wriggle free of it has left me exhausted and torn to pieces.
.DO NOT HESITATE.
DO NOT RESIST LOVE.
DO NOT BE CONTROLLED BY FEAR.
“All futurity seems teeming with endless destruction never to be repelled; Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.”