My Horrible Task

I am faced with a horrible task. I have written and so I am told I must write.

I feel like a lost child, raging against this unfair world. What a fool. The worldly are moved to laughter. Events, promises, appointments, all the ‘important things’ pale against this ineffable mystery. How can emptiness be so large? How can an absence weigh so much?

It is beyond comprehension, this horrible void that words barely suggest and never hope to capture but in withered, insignificant mumblings over-flowing with dread. What are words anyway but ghosts, ever searching for lost meanings? Intensions become a mockery in the face of this horror.

And why would I want to capture this? I want to put this far away, to blot it out. This is one embrace I can live without.

I awaken to yet another grotesque facsimile of a normal day. It is a tainted reality that allows a century of cumulated personal experience to vanish, a wisp of smoke in a heartbeat.

Words fail to build anything more substantial than unstable emotions shifting more easily than a cloud eclipses the sun. Words are leaky, empty vessels. They hold nothing. They sustain nothing. Illusions. Imaginary waves breaking against real rocks. Playthings for the mad babbling of the lost. A breath creates them and, like a breath they are gone.

And like a breath, followed by another no more, the time is past as well. There is no more time to say the words that wanted saying. That needed hearing. That meant everything when words were all we had that could matter. How can words carry more weight than the world they describe?

Yes, to put the words, these abstract shadows onto paper somehow makes this nightmare a reality. The words don’t create but acknowledge, no less than etching them in stone, this loss, this abomination, this incoherent, perpetual absence where before was the magnificent life that brought me to life.

All the nurturing and caring correction is past. I recoil. To write it seems an obscenity scrawled on the face of the sacred.

We exchanged tender good-byes on an ashen landscape.

I face a life sentence. My mother is dead.

6 thoughts on “My Horrible Task

  1. Hi there! I know this is kinda off topic nevertheless I’d figured I’d ask.
    Would you be interested in exchanging links or maybe guest
    authoring a blog article or vice-versa? My blog addresses
    a lot of the same topics as yours and I believe we could
    greatly benefit from each other. If you are interested feel free to send me an email.
    I look forward to hearing from you! Wonderful blog by
    the way!

    Like

    1. Thank you for your kind words. I appreciate your interest. However, I have established my voice on this site and don’t know how adding another would work. You are welcome to share my posts if you wish.

      Like

  2. I lost my 2 parents over 25 years ago. I still wish I had them to talk to about the mess we appear to be in. Your writing is excellent John. Keep diving into the morass and keep trying to describe the ineffable.

    Like

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