Ready For Love

Prologue

Time heals all wounds, they say.

Whether it be a cut from a knife while trying to open a can of goods, or that accidental slit you get while flipping through the pages of your favorite book- a Physical wound. Or a stab from a dagger cut deep within your soul, those words that cut deeper than the knife that creeps inside you, bleeds you, kills you, slowly, softly, inside- an Emotional wound.

Regardless, as time slips by, these wounds heal.

Question is, is the time really be the one to be acknowledged for?

Or is it just an excuse to say that it doesn't really heal you?

But just teaches you how to live with it- the pain.

And so that's why wounds remain, may it be Physical or Emotional- you name it. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity covers them with a tissue and so the pain lessens but is never really gone. The tissue to mask up the pain called namely as scars, remain.

Scars have the strange power to remind us of our past- a past that is real. And thus, scars are just another kind of memory that we got to live with, as time passes.

As long as I can,

I will look at this world for both of us,

"Saints of God, come to his/her aid!
Come to meet him/her, Angels of the Lord!"

R/. "Receive his/her soul and present him/her to God the Most High.

May Christ, who called you, take you to himself;
may Angels lead you to Abraham's side. R/.

Give him/her eternal rest, O Lord,
and may your light shine on him/her forever" R/.

as long as I can,

I will laugh with the birds,

I will sing with the flowers,

I will pray to the stars,

"Let us pray.
All-powerful and merciful God,
we commend to you N., your servant.
In your mercy and love,
blot out the sins he/she has committed
through human weakness.
In this world he/she has died:
let him/her live with you forever.
Through Christ our Lord."

for both of us.

R/. "Amen."

The liquid splatters from its orifice as the priest splashes his holy water and I in turn, exhales sharply and sniffles continuously as I witnessed her casket slowly being pulled downwards until it was all covered with the remains of dirt that was dug up.

"It's been a long day, I know you're tired" he tapped on my shoulders as if I just got out in an exhausting day at work.

To which I wished it was.

I turned to look at him with his eyes mirrored mine- dark, gloomy, ill-lit shade, screamed nothing but sorrow and pain.

But it wasn't, it wasn't something that I could wish for- not anymore.

He understood what actually lingers behind those eyes looking back at him and so he consoled me with his arms wrapped around me.

And here it goes again.

The tear.

The sobs.

The—

"It's okay, let it out. Pour it all out" he said as he continues to pat my back.

The pain.

It stings.

It stabs, over and over and over again.

It hurts like hell.

Much more than a fucking hell.

My chest began to perceive everything but euphoria. Its insides where a certain organ that symbolize and interprets a sudden hard thumping similar to a feeling of falling in love commenced a compression causing for it to liberate a crushing feeling which you can no longer tolerate the pain that it permits. The sudden reaction created an uncontrollable weight that made its way to my heart, and so I cried. I wept like a child.

"It's gonna be okay" he secured me with his sincere eyes. Now beaming with sparkle- somehow trying to give me a hint that there's still hope, which I refuse ro accept as the pain masked up all the space, every little bit in my heart.

I don't know.

Will all these pain stop?

When my tears started to subside, he pulled away and he lowered his head to be in my level.

Will it ever ease?

Will it be okay?

Will it ever be?

"What do you say we head home? Hmm?" he draws in a smile.

And that's it.

I nod and he turned his back against me and took a step forward over the other.

His smile was the key to my unbearable pain of questions running around my head. Like an endless marathon. No other way around, no turning back, no, nothing.

It's a dead end.

"Uh dad" I reached out.

He falters halfway and turned his heels to look my way.

"Yes bud?" eyebrows arched and eyelids as heavy as the clouds bearing its own water- his tears, his cheeks twitching as it fights the urge to let it escape from its sac, afraid to let it fall.

"Do you think she'll be okay now?"

Okay.

Okay.

A comforting yet deceiving word.

Why is it so easy to say you're okay but refuse to admit that you really aren't okay?

"Of course, she's in good hands with our creator" the corner of his lips curled up revealing a smile.

And I should be, too.

Right?

I have to.

I need to.

A sigh is all my mouth could escape.

Maybe she is, I hope she is.

"Now, come on. Let's go home"

I took a deep breath as the back of my hand got soaked as I wiped my wet cheeks that were stained with tears. Tilted my head up and observed how the clouds moved in a straight direction.

Lies. Nothing ever comes out good with a lie. Words and emotions, you don't have to lie. Be true, be honest at all cost. Honor your emotions, but do not let it eat you alive. If you feel blue, let the color mask you in. If you're sad, be sad, cry if you must. If you're feeling down, rest and pick yourself up and begin again. Acknowledge every sensation, accept and move forward. Let it all pass like how the wind whirls and brush your skin in a blink and let's never pretend, let's never claim a false emotion.

Because it's okay not to be okay.

"You don't have to worry about us anymore, I'm a big girl now (I guess), I can handle things from now on (I sure do hope so). I hope you're doing fine up there. I'm gonna miss you (So bad)" I mutter as my tears insisted to fall down again.

Till our souls meet again.

"I love you mom, always."