True Love, it is something very few experience. Many do experience Love but they allow bad situations to destroy and make excuses to let it fall apart, whither and die. No attempt made to fix it, as to keep it going. Walk away, and start again and let the cycle repeat over and over again until there is a trail of broken hearts that leads to nowhere but of a life of broken dreams and promises.
My uncles had/have it. One of them (both aunt and uncle), died a few years ago but despite the problems in their lives of 60s/70s NYC Heroine Users, they managed to do right for each other and their family they created. From broken parts to a branch of the tree the family can be proud of. My other uncle, like my father, played the field of extramarital affairs until his wife of 40 years let him have it - no more, me only or this marriage is over and I take everything you worked hard to have. They are still together to this day. Despite the problems, they worked hard to keep things going because in the end, no one wants to wake up alone, and no one wants to end up dying alone. Late in her life, my mother had it, though the poor guy died from a stroke at an early age.
I have a long list of broken hearts and excuses of those "girls" who were not strong enough to deal with a person like me. I did have 4 or so that could of, would of lasted for as life can take it but life is what happens when you are busy making other plans. And then there was that one, the one I married. Engraved on her ring was FG&CT:081583-UDDUA. It would only last 5 months, though we had a long 7 year run since high school to figure out each other's secrets, learn how to treat each other and share a friendship that others tried to destroyed. But we led very complicated lives, had obligations to fulfill, do things the other did not agreed with in doing. But we kept going, as friends, as lovers, as something more. For the first time in a very long time, I understood what true love was even though had it in a fleeting form where life took it away after letting me taste it.
I swore an oath to you, that I would do what ever it took to never hurt you, to never do anything to break your heart, to lose your trust and respect, to never let so-called friends get in between us ever again. Us against the world. An unfair fight as far as the rest of the world is concerned. But then that day happened, and you said those words that hurt me to my very core, "Fernando, either trust me in doing the right thing or we are through as husband and wife." It was about dealing with loose end in her life - her former husband she divorced in Absentia for abandoning her, he had came back to get her back and she wanted to deal with him alone. It was a test of trust that I hated to pass. My stomach ulcerated (had ulcers for a while in my younger years before the "cure") from the stress, but I had to let her go so she can deal with what she had to deal with.It would be the last kiss I would receive from her that day, the last goodbye before she walked out the door, the last time I saw that shapely body move away from me as it often did when we went to work and school.
A black rose is for a Love that never dies. At over $375, a single stem is more than worth it. Thank god my Black Rose connection moved it to his botanist daughter to carry the tradition of carrying the genetic line. Black Roses are roses that are so deep in Red that, that they look black. A mutant gene does this, and they are very hard to grow without some secretive care. being so dark they over heat easily, wilt if too much or not enough water is given, if the nutrition in the soil goes whack even for a day. But they are out there, and they are as expensive as diamonds one puts on a ring.
Due to our feuding families, I will never know where you are buried my love, but one day I will find out. Until then I stand on where you were found after the snow melted, Lifeless and Blue. I can only sense the aura this place has, the time echo of the fight you had to defend yourself from a madman I would have taken cared off myself if I were there. This place echoes of death, not just of yours but of others as well but yours was one of the last to be found here. I hold this rose tightly in my fingers, thorns pricking my skin, blood trickling down its stem. Police are behind me, its a "No-Person" Zone, but every year they allow one to come here and go through their ritual. But there is always that one rookie that wants to get stupid, ask questions, demand for ID. I put the rose to his face and tell him, "I have a job to do. Leave me alone to do it."
30 minutes, a 1/2 hour, 1/48 day, 1/336 week, 1/1344 month, 1/16128 year; a sliver of time that pierces the heart and makes the soul howl. The blood trickles down the stem and drips down to the soil. Knees get weak and bend. Heart races, blood pressure rises, all in the name of emotions: Love, Anger, Betrayal, Hate, Madness. Adrenaline and Testosterone courses through the veins like an Indy Car trying to break a record on the track. I am a man, but times like this it hurts to be a man.
If she would have lived, we would have been married for 35 years - that is older than most people on the internet have been alive. How would I know we would remain married? It's a promise we gave each other, that if trust each other, we would stay together no matter what. What ever problems we have we would deal with it. And the seven years we had before, others tried to destroy us and they fail in their task. That says a lot for a mismatched pair of a couple we were. Even her surviving twin says that we would still be married if she had lived. That is more than enough for me.
Fist pound the ground, but the abnormally warm weather had soaked the dirt in rain and not ice and snow, it sinks into the Terra Firma a couple of inches from a force from training of self defense and emotional raw power, a punch meant to do more than just hurt someone's feelings, it was meant to break bones.
Many ask why I never remarried. Many dare say that I should carry on. I tried. Believe me I tried. I would not have raised six daughters if I hadn't. Thing is this - the so-called women out there are not strong enough to deal with a man like me. They are not satisfied with living a life of peace and rest. I worked hard and earned it but they want drama because they can not stand living a boring life. My mind and body is scarred from the injuries of protecting my boring life. Stabbed, shot, poisoned, ran over - for what? Bullshit. All I want is peace, instead I have to fight for that peace every step of the way. No woman today is equal, even in her own right, to this one woman who's heart I shared with mine. No man is my equal, when driven to the edge, I will pay the price that no one wants pay.
I curse the rain. I curse this place. I curse everything that has led me to this point that echoes through out time. I hate this time. Some years are easier than others, this one is not. My girls know how to handle me in this time of year, some so-called friends don't. They wait for me not too far away in a rented muscle car. Glad to see my connections are still going on. My friends however, are not my friends. They demand, they question, they judge. For people I once would have given my life for, they can go to hell for the actions they take this time of year. I want peace and rest, they provide turmoil and drama. How dare they disturb my peace.
The rose is put down where she once laid in eternal slumber - her Bonsai - the sleep of 1000 years. The cuts from its thorns bleed like a flowing water fountain. Damn you blood thinners, you are just adding to the effect of the mood unnecessarily. I slowly get up and for some strange reason say "Thanks" to God. I leave the grassy field, leaving a trail of blood from where she laid to the concrete ground not far away, and up the path out of the park to the streets outside. My girls wait for me outside of the rented car, first aid kit in hand. There isn't any wound this body of mine can not heal from, but sometimes it needs a little help.
The girls may not understand what it is to be a man, especially the man that I am, but they carry me as a standard of what a man should be. And I wonder why they have not gotten married yet. Maybe they never will. At least they can wrap a bandage tightly to stop the bleeding. Two of them ought too, as doctors they better know!
Sherman, set the Way Back Machine for now and home... Home, where Love never dies and memories are as real as the events that formed them..
