As one of the worst ‘anniversary’ dates closes in on me – the air becomes increasingly heavier by the day. The closer Wednesday gets, the less oxygen Momma seems to be able to find. I was prepared for this week to be challenging. However, I was not prepared for the challenge to exponentially implode. The bomb that was dropped on me this weekend has officially made the first week of May the worst week of all time – ever. Times infinity. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by this unexpected blow; history sure has a funny way of repeating itself. Yet I am surprised…but not as much as I am horrified.
I have always lived by the adage that “knowledge is power”. However, I am not sure I agree with that any longer. Maybe there is such a thing as too much knowledge. Maybe ignorantly floating through life, even one riddled with deceit, would prove to be the ‘wiser’ existence after all.
Unfortunately, you only find your limit of how much ‘knowledge’ you can handle after you’ve already learned far too much. You find it in the call that should have been left unreturned, or the meeting that should have been left unattended. You find it in a story that twists your tummy into tiny, nauseating knots – and leaves you with a dry heave you honestly may never shake. You hear this story in its entirety. A story that can’t possibly be real: from the very beginning, throughout the twisted middle, right down to the bitter end. Not even two hundred and twelve Sazeracs could have dulled the blow. You walk away absolutely empty. All you can feel are the shards of a heart that used to beat in your chest. The contents of this story, the “knowledge”, causes those shards to methodically slice away at your insides. You cross into an entirely new plane of suffering – which seems impossible given you’ve already been treading water in a life seemingly determined to drown you in heartache.
Paxton, you were taken from me without my permission. Our little family began to crumble without my permission. The shards of what used to be my heart rake through my soul without my permission.
But learning the intricate details of the most unconscionable story of all time was my decision. I returned that call. I agreed to that meeting. I listened to that story. I choked back the lump in my throat as more and more unimaginable information was divulged. Now, here I sit – with an abundance of “knowledge” I wish I could unlearn. I replay the words in my head over and again. I am unable to bear this load. So maybe, just maybe, knowledge isn’t all so powerful after all. I really don’t know anymore.
Here is what I do know: Losing you shattered my heart into slivers of a whole. Gaining knowledge of a premeditated and soulless betrayal used those slivers to cut the rest of me into pieces. I also know that I will never be okay again. It is simply no longer possible.
I miss you desperately. I want you back. I am so sorry you got sick.
Please stay with me, Sweet Boy. (I need you now more than ever.)