Another long night

When we talked yesterday, B and I, we briefly mentioned the book we'd been reading. That piqued my interest again so I picked it up again last night, about 11p and started reading. It got good and I finally put it down about 1245a. Since wake up is usually about 530a, that seemed like a good plan.

Plans are what you make, life is what you get.

As I lay in the dark trying to get to sleep all I could see was her face in front of me, floating. Eyes open or shut it didn't matter, I could see her. She was crying, her eyes red and wet, shiny tracks of tears lining her cheeks. There was a look of incredible sadness in her eyes and an aura of sadness or resignation or surrender all around her. There was something else in her eyes too - it wasn't a look of accusation, but more like a questioning or a wondering and the question that floated dimly in her eyes but reverberated loudly in my ears was "how could you do this to me?" That's not quite right. Maybe more like "I trusted and loved you; how did we let me get here?"

Again, there was no accusation in her eyes, only sad surprise, disappointment in me, a feeling of betrayal almost that someone she cared for and who loved her so much would contribute to making her feel like she does now, to her being in such a sad, dark place. I knew then that I'd never let anyone down as much as I had her. Wracked with guilt and grief all I wanted to do was to relieve her pain, to take away every bit of sorrow I'd caused her but I knew that I couldn't. What had happened I couldn't undo. The pain and the hurt I'd brought to her was so obvious in her eyes that I knew, and know, that I'll carry it and the shame of having caused that with me for the rest of my life.

I've made her cry before, too many times. Yesterday I did it again. As infectious and joyful as her laugh is to me, so is the sound of her crying like a knife in my heart. Every time I hear it it's too much for me, it immediately overwhelms me, sends me over the edge of the abyss. It's bad enough when she crys because of something I've done. But yesterdays' tears were different. There was no sense of having been hurt, but rather I could hear her crying for all that she'd lost, even all that we'd lost. All that I'd caused her to lose. She crys silently, almost inaudibly, but to hear her quiet sobs is the most deafening sound anyone could ever hear. In her sobs as in her tears, there's such sorrow, such loss.

Just the memory of her tears or her crying is overwhelming.

How could I have done so terrible a thing to the woman I love with all my heart? The woman I would do anything for, the woman I've been looking for for so long.