Post by Mirielle Bellamont on Apr 14, 2010 10:40:33 GMT -5
Entry #1
Elua. I've never done anything like this before, written things down in such fashion. I'd always been taught and told that written words could be held against you, that anything that is truly private should be said, not written... but I don't know how much more I can take before I burst.
The healer I see for my pregnancy said that it might be a good idea for me to do this, and I think I'm going to have to trust him and go against the grain, so to speak. I can write about anything, to anyone... and I think right now, more than anything, I need to write to you.
I miss you. I miss you like the winter misses the flower, like the birds miss a warm breeze. I miss you every day, every hour, every minute, every breath... I still haven't accepted that I won't see you again. I still keep hoping that one day I'll wake up, and you'll be lounging in the door of my bedroom, hair tousled, eyes sparkling, a look of mischief on your face. You always looked the best when you were like that, handsome without even having to try, amazing even when you were silent... and when you spoke, you outshone everyone.
I miss our talks, our conversations. I miss our friendship, and our love.. Ah gods, they're cruel! So cruel, that we should find our love so late in life. So late and so early; enough time to start a family, to wed and be together, only to have life ripped from you, life ripped out of me. More than half my soul went with you when you died, when we laid you in the ground. I don't want it back, I don't want to be whole again. I just want you. I just want us to have our happiness together.
The babe is growing, strong and true, but I worry too that my stress has hurt it in some way. The healer assures me that I haven't, that everything is fine, but I can't bring myself to fully believe. My stomach is smaller than normal, and times like this is when I miss my mother. I want to ask her if she was small as well, or my grandmother, my father, anyone... but there is none. Most of the time I feel like I am fumbling in the dark, struggling to find light, but there is none. The only hope I have at all of ever recapturing it again is the babe in my stomach. Our babe, August.. Your son or daughter. You never knew you were to become a father when they took you. I didn't know, not til days after, when I couldn't stop sicking up. I thought it sadness, but it turns out it wasn't. The hardest thing I ever did was to leave your parents home and travel to the City, trying to escape, to not have constant reminders so I could stay strong for the babe... but it didn't work out like I'd hoped. Your ring is still on my finger, it'll always be there, sparkling with an echo of our love.
I miss you.
I was crying again. It seemed I was always crying, tears falling from grief. When I thought I was taking a step forward, when I thought I was finally reclaiming a fraction of who I was, I'd find myself breaking down again and reduced to nothing more than a quivering woman, wracked with sadness. My hands fell away from the quill as the baby shifted, kicking in rapid succession, and quick as I could I placed my hand over the spot to feel it just a little more.
This was my only reason for living. This little being, stretching and nudging me, it was the entirety of my life. I'd survive for my babe, and raise our little son or daughter as best as I was capable of. They'd know their father as well as I did, irregardless of whether they could meet him, and I'd fight to secure the title that was rightfully theirs. Titles didn't mean much to some, not to me, but I was not about to let anything shortchange our babes life... Not when August had not a chance to give them anything.
Running my hand over my stomach, I wept.
Elua. I've never done anything like this before, written things down in such fashion. I'd always been taught and told that written words could be held against you, that anything that is truly private should be said, not written... but I don't know how much more I can take before I burst.
The healer I see for my pregnancy said that it might be a good idea for me to do this, and I think I'm going to have to trust him and go against the grain, so to speak. I can write about anything, to anyone... and I think right now, more than anything, I need to write to you.
I miss you. I miss you like the winter misses the flower, like the birds miss a warm breeze. I miss you every day, every hour, every minute, every breath... I still haven't accepted that I won't see you again. I still keep hoping that one day I'll wake up, and you'll be lounging in the door of my bedroom, hair tousled, eyes sparkling, a look of mischief on your face. You always looked the best when you were like that, handsome without even having to try, amazing even when you were silent... and when you spoke, you outshone everyone.
I miss our talks, our conversations. I miss our friendship, and our love.. Ah gods, they're cruel! So cruel, that we should find our love so late in life. So late and so early; enough time to start a family, to wed and be together, only to have life ripped from you, life ripped out of me. More than half my soul went with you when you died, when we laid you in the ground. I don't want it back, I don't want to be whole again. I just want you. I just want us to have our happiness together.
The babe is growing, strong and true, but I worry too that my stress has hurt it in some way. The healer assures me that I haven't, that everything is fine, but I can't bring myself to fully believe. My stomach is smaller than normal, and times like this is when I miss my mother. I want to ask her if she was small as well, or my grandmother, my father, anyone... but there is none. Most of the time I feel like I am fumbling in the dark, struggling to find light, but there is none. The only hope I have at all of ever recapturing it again is the babe in my stomach. Our babe, August.. Your son or daughter. You never knew you were to become a father when they took you. I didn't know, not til days after, when I couldn't stop sicking up. I thought it sadness, but it turns out it wasn't. The hardest thing I ever did was to leave your parents home and travel to the City, trying to escape, to not have constant reminders so I could stay strong for the babe... but it didn't work out like I'd hoped. Your ring is still on my finger, it'll always be there, sparkling with an echo of our love.
I miss you.
I was crying again. It seemed I was always crying, tears falling from grief. When I thought I was taking a step forward, when I thought I was finally reclaiming a fraction of who I was, I'd find myself breaking down again and reduced to nothing more than a quivering woman, wracked with sadness. My hands fell away from the quill as the baby shifted, kicking in rapid succession, and quick as I could I placed my hand over the spot to feel it just a little more.
This was my only reason for living. This little being, stretching and nudging me, it was the entirety of my life. I'd survive for my babe, and raise our little son or daughter as best as I was capable of. They'd know their father as well as I did, irregardless of whether they could meet him, and I'd fight to secure the title that was rightfully theirs. Titles didn't mean much to some, not to me, but I was not about to let anything shortchange our babes life... Not when August had not a chance to give them anything.
Running my hand over my stomach, I wept.