Conclusion.
-
_I must now conclude he is dead.
My lover is gone, and no divine power will ever bring him home again.
So many hours has I sat gazing in to the golden liquid, taking long sips as the though rose to mind, until all grew blurry and the realisation escaped me. Now I sit with an empty bottle, and has no other alternative but accept. How often has I not dreamt that I would awake and see my love, standing before my bed like he would have so many times before in the past, sometimes I think I see him but a fast as he appear before my opening eyes he vanishes and I know he is indeed not here and never Will be.
I loved a man, and through him I learned the value of worth, and responsibility. since his death I have allowed no other to touch me, nor kiss my lips, waiting, though I knew it was for nothing, longing, but not accepting, refusing. This world we dwell in does not respect 'death' too many a times have I seen people fall, mourned their death and had them return to my side within months, but not this time.
Parts of me hates the bastard for having done this, having me made him love him, having me actually care about another living being for the pain to linger, and then to leave me.
And my son, the boy he gave me, the child we made, he too is gone, lost, the child who's hand is stained with my lovers blood, for it was he who held the dagger, and upon my discovery he left and since then I have not seen sight of my son, my murderer.
I love my boy, and I would wish nothing more then to have a chance to speak with him, but never will this take place, for I fear he left the country long ago, and has no desire to see his drunken mother, be it shame or fear.
I sit here with an empty bottle and a sunken feeling, pondering what action to take next, suicide is not an option, I am a survivor, and though I have never felt more alone in the world, I will rather live in pain then not live at all.
the only comfort I have is that my love, always desired death, longed for it, wished for it, begged for it, and has finally found peace, and that my son, is a survivor too, and I do believe he somewhere, is well, and hopefully happy, I pray only that he ended his murdering ways the day he slayed his father, but it is a fools wish as once you kill in cold blood, it is hard to get your soul warm again.
I know not what to do next, there is nothing left for me in this world, but I now acknowledge that I am back where I started, a few memories richer, I have a treasure I wish I could give away and yet as much as I try I can not, and a pain that will never be cured.
I need to get outside, I need fresh air, I need to try and stay sober._
- Gildor
