Prologue
I’m
tormented-tormented by memories, photos, birthday cards, and everything you
would consider a keepsake. By
definition, to be tormented means; to be in extreme pain or anguish of the body
or mind. My mind constantly flashes
memories of living, loving and laughing.
Those words are the basic foundation of life. I used to have that, and then in the blink of
an eye, it was taken away from me. And
now, I’m tormented-so broken that I don’t even know if I can rise from the
rubble that has now become my life.
Everyone around me tells me time will heal all wounds; take it one day
at a time-or my favorite saying-you need to stay strong.
How
can I stay strong when all I want to do is crumble and fade away? There is just
nothing left for me to live for. I am
tormented every minute of every day. Everywhere I go, something will trigger a
memory- a mother and daughter shopping, a father and son playing ball, or a
family at a restaurant. My torment is so
bad that I refuse to allow anyone in for fear that I will lose them too. I have
no will to live; nothing seems to matter anymore. How can I go on without them? I don’t even want to keep living without
them. They were my anchor, my dream, and
my happiness.
I’ve
cut myself off from everyone and anyone that had a place in our lives back when
everything was vibrant and alive. The
only person from my past that I could not separate from is Lace and that’s only
because she refuses to let go or give up on me.
She gives me both comfort and pain because there isn’t a single memory
of my past life where she’s not in it. Some would say I torment myself with the
past, but the hurt is still very much alive in me. My life right now is black and white-almost
like living in a black hole-and never moving forward.
Three
people are dead after a tractor trailer slammed head on into their car. The
police officer at the scene said the driver of the truck lost control after
falling asleep behind the wheel, and then crossed the median and collided with
their car. Those words play over and
over in my head, causing complete anguish, and utter pain. It torments me.
It
wasn’t until years later that color came back into my life in the form of the
deepest sapphire you can imagine. It was
because of this color that I was able to pick up the pieces and dust myself off
and move back into the world of the living again. It’s because of him that I am able to look back in fondness instead of dread. He gave me a reason to live, to love, and to
laugh. He has colored my world for the
better, but how long will it last?
