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The Good Woman, Post 3

There was so much to say, but she really had no clue how to begin. Her mouth wouldn't begin to form the sounds her heart was bursting to relay. This was not a language she was skilled in speaking. As time continued to tick, she became more and more desperate to relay something...most of all, 'I'm sorry.'

I'm sorry for disappointing you, although all I wanted to do was grow and be free to do so. I'm sorry for the pregnancy, but it turned out to be one of the most important events in my life. I'm sorry my past linked into my future and caused a threat to you and what had been only yours for so long. I'm sorry that I couldn't find a way to connect, and eventually stopped trying, allowing my hurt and disappointment and disgust to build up and create its own wall between us. I'm sorry so many years have passed by and continued the wedge between us. I feel time crashing down all around me and the passing of age, but I don't feel like there is anything I can do. I'm sorry for all of this and I have no idea how to tell you or how to lay down a new road for us.  
The Good Woman felt so much sorrow and apprehension. She knew that someday, perhaps soon, she would stare down at a man she loved dearly, who could not respond to her inner thoughts and callings because no spirit remained with which to do so. She knew that the sorrow she felt was premature coping and she felt no guilt for it, just simply sadness and a faint glimmer of hope. Even when she knew an ending was approaching, that faint glimmer, the crack in everything, still found a way to catch her eye. For the time being she decided that keeping the memories alive that she still fondly cherished was the best way to honor and preserve the memory of the statuesque man who was her first example of solidarity, comfort, quietness, and strength. The Good Woman felt terrible, but knew that she still loved, and as long as she could love, she was still sending forth strains of effort through the invisible realm of love.
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