Fragments Gallery
Reflections: Pain
The pain never really goes away. The loss, it... sticks with you. Grows in you. Every time it comes... different... though. Each time it’s a different trigger. Each time it’s diverse thoughts; although they differ, the pain they bring remains familiar.
But... I’m not here to write about that, however much my thoughts are drawn to it. I normally record the things I see in this journal, but recently, although I carry it with me everywhere I go, I feel as though it has been gathering dust. I’m not sure where or when it happened, but I haven’t seen as much. No ghostly reflections walking the streets, no ancient figures huddled around a phantom campfire and no shadow festivals in the square.
That’s just as well, I’ve been busy. So I tell myself anyway; even if I had seen something, I wouldn’t have the time to write it down. You know what? That may even be the problem. Maybe I haven’t slowed down enough to notice.
But today I’m not moving so fast. The snow outside reinforces that, it dampens the world, deadens the sound and darkens the sky.
Maybe today is slow enough... or maybe I’m done with that part of my life.
Done or not, those reminders are always there.
This time it was the end of a TV show. I watched the pain the characters felt on-screen and empathized. She let her true love go, she lost him again. I could see the pain in her eyes. I knew, I know, the pain that she felt. It’s a pain that doesn’t let up. It’s that knowing, that knowledge, that you’ll never see them again. Never again feel the warmth of their hand, know the smell of their hair, or recognize that playful glint in their eye.
Some would say “just move on”, it’s time. But there is no moving on, not really. Going forward, they are with you. As long as you remember, they are never truly gone. All you do is keep on going.
But that leads back to them, and their misunderstanding. There will be someone else, they say; if you keep going you’ll find them eventually. That’s probably true but.... to open oneself up to that again... It’s hard. Far easier to just stay away from all that for now.
Perhaps, I spoke too soon.
She was here, idly drawing in her notebook while seated at the kitchen table. I don’t know when it could have been, sometime when I was at work perhaps, but that hardly matters.
She was here.
She was so calm, so relaxed. I don’t know how long I stood there, transfixed, as she drew. Part of it was shock, but the other part... it was good to see her again. Good to remember, even if remembering was painful because I knew I was watching a reflection. Even knowing that soon she would be taken away.
Eventually, she faded and although she was just a ghost, not even here, the house felt emptier. The warm feelings drained away, the darkness grew close.
Part of me longs to see her again, to see her happy and well. The other part shrivels at the thought.
I used to dream about her. In some dreams, she was just with me and we were laughing, smiling, warm and happy. But others were cold, hard.
One has vividly stuck with me. She was crying, she knew that she was gone and there was nothing we could do about it.
Nothing.
I’ve always thought that the ghostly figures were something that were just there. Something that only I was special enough, or unfortunate enough, to see. But... what if I don’t only bear witness to these shades. What if I summon them forth? Do they know that someone is watching? Someone who isn’t even there for them to see?
There’s a darker question here. Are the ghosts... real? Are they the figures of what once was? Or are they something else? Perhaps figments of my imagination?
Maybe I have been seeing the usual ghosts this whole time. Maybe they’ve just been the ghosts of my own past.