Triggers, goodbyes and gratitude

Like a tornado she came to me. Thrashing through my sleep. Piercing me with grief. Hurtling debris strewn in her wake.

She came to me one year and 10.5 days from when she left, her heart arresting for the third time as I sped to reach her, to hold her, to share a last farewell.

I didn’t make it in time.

Her heart arrested. Again.

The phone rang.

You lost her, didn’t you?

I am so sorry.

She didn’t make it.

I didn’t get there in time.

She left behind a hole.

A cavity I cannot fill. A grief I cannot swallow. A guilt that rears its head and reminds me, in the middle of the night, how I failed her. How I fail me.

The night before she awoke.

She heard my voice and rallied. She worked at breathing on her own, replacing the machine’s labour.

I stayed until she fell asleep. The middle of the night. They let you do that in intensive care if you’re a paying customer.

I left her intubated. She could not breath on her own once she fell asleep again.

The next day her heart arrested.

Again and again.

Until it could not.

I didn’t make it in time.

She didnt make it.

And so my day started. In the middle of the night.³

Then I read what it takes to make an abuser go away.

My chest ached around my racing heart. I wanted to throw up. I could not breathe on my own. There was no machine to do it for me.

It costs a great deal to make an abuser go away. The bounty is too high.

I miss her.

And the pieces of me the horror that took her stole from me.

Go away, bully liar manipulative fuck. I stood alone, voting against you, motioning you exit.

I am so grateful.

So grateful this week is over.

So grateful I have other memories, happier memories, of her.