Janice's Broken Heart

[Dot Matrix]

The Widow

My husband of 33 years died long ago,

yet even today I am not a widow.

He died when he lost his bearings

on what mattered in life.

He died when he assumed an identity

that belonged to an evil and misbegotten stranger.

He died when he could not tell me

the truth about Deeds done, feelings felt and distance.

My husband grew cold to the touch,

long before his death,

as he became increasingly cruel and detached,

and less and less himself.

Witnessing my husband's slow and irreversible demise

was painful and triggered tremendous sorrow and agony.

Watching a loved one die

is a pain that no one should ever have to endure.

His integrity was the first to go.

Then he lost his ability to grip the truth.

He simply could no longer hold it

in his hands or in his heart.

Gradually, steadily, horribly, he lost his own identity,

oblivious to his losses-- like an Alzheimer's patient

lacking sufficient self-awareness of losing "it"

while the losses continue to amass.

Little by little,

lie by lie,

self-deception began to replace reality.

Falsehoods began to supplant the real truth.

Half-truths became whole truths.

Strengthened by denial,

fortified by deliberate blindness,

I tried not to see his disintegration,

as an odd stranger morphed into his psyche,

and took over his person.

Gradually, he became more and more

like that odd stranger

until the odd stranger and he were one

and I no longer knew the person he had become.

Before my husband's death,

I sensed that the inner core of goodness,

innocence, and kindness in the young man

whom I had married more than three decades earlier,

no longer existed (if it ever had).

Personal honor.

Inner integrity.

Respect for truth,

had all gradually dissipated

as though leached from his soul.

Drop by drop,

lie by lie,

until each had finally succumbed,

forever vanquished.

Honor, integrity, respect for the truth

and his oath before God to love and cherish me,

his wife, through sickness and in health,

until parted by death,

were all fatal casualties

in his own internal battles.

Battles fought in a bloodless war

waged deep within himself.

A war that he had lost and in which

he, too, had perished.

And so, I have awakened,

only to find myself alone.

[act2]

((( DOT)))

[George Aar]

Gawd, isn't that a pleasant bit of prose.

Um, I could tell a similar tale from the husband's side of the story, but, why bother?

I fully intended to, but, being as there's probably a lot of baggage attached to your post that I'm unaware of, and the fact that in my present state of mind I can (and do) say some unmercifully cruel things, I think it best to refrain.

There's plenty enough heartaches to go around though, isn't there? Step right up and help yourself. Lots more where that came from...

Edited December 8, 2005 by George Aar