BROKEN DREAMS

Chapter 1 - Regrets

It is 5 a.m. I have always been a morning person. Waking up early gives me a longer day, or at least that is what I tell myself.

The sun remains in hiding. Below my 12th floor condo balcony are the tiny lights of thousands of houses spread out. The city feels still, quiet and calm, but who knows what unhappiness shrinks lives in the little boxes below.

Settling into my favorite Balinese deck chair, I switch on my laptop to see what other unhappiness the world is suffering from. Nothing good or new. The news remains the same; it just happens to different people.

I scan without reading; see without remembering. I am thinking about Mark, the world famous branding and marketing author. He is in Cliveland Hospital, admitted in to the Intensive Care Unit after he collapsed in his home two days ago.

Mark and I have shared so much and yet so little. I had met Mark in the midst of my divorce negotiation with Robert.  Mark mentored me and rescued me from depression. Mark, was a pillar of strength who had encouraged me to leave my job and pursue my dreams. So I did. I wrote. I opened an orphanage.

Mark, my one and only true love, showed me what love was at a time when I thought life was just suffering and pain. I used to feel bitter about my loveless life. I always wondered if I would find real love. And I finally found it with Mark. I couldn’t believe that Mark adored me and loved me for who I am.

Mark and I had made so many plans on what we wanted to do together. Spending a year in China to learn Mandarin. Seeing the world by living in different countries each year, experiencing the culture of each country, until we finally settled in a nice Asian country and taught English. We had talked of sharing old age together, caring for each other till the end.

I laugh to myself, breaking the morning silence. We could act silly in front of each other, or we could just work on our projects, knowing we were there for each other. We could talk about anything. We always ran out of time before we ran out of conversation. I miss Mark.

It felt good to feel the freedom that love gave. Mark and I had found our soul mate in each other. We had hoped that life would be a fairy tale, happy ever after and all that. But it didn’t turn out that way, and there were so many hard lessons to learn along the way.

I remember the day when I was diagnosed with a high risk of developing cervical cancer. My immediate thought was that I might die tomorrow. And that’s the loneliest thought in the world. I am sure it’s also a thought shared by so many other 45-year-old women if they are diagnosed the same. If I die at 45, my only legacy would be an unhappy life. That’s worse than sad, because there are so many things I want to do. I want to smell, feel, taste, see and touch the world around me. Travel, charity work, read, anything but the usual office work. I want to see my kids graduate and marry. I want to hug my grandkids. I want to live my life now the way it should have been lived.

It was this possibility of me developing cervical cancer that got me to ask Robert for a divorce. I realized then that life was just too short. I wanted to be able to take charge of my life before it’s too late. The marriage had me desolate, depressed and, at times, suicidal. There were too many arguments, full of hurtful words and even beatings.  The emotional and physical abuse killed whatever love I had had for him. In fact, I had grown to dislike him. He was like a demon, scolding and shouting whenever he got angry. It wouldn’t take much for a slightest word or thing to send him into a rage. There was no talking to him when he didn’t like something. I remember how the house was always filled with Robert’s loud, angry voice. I was always fearful of when the next scolding would be. Robert admitted that he couldn’t control his fast and furious temper, but that didn’t change him neither ease the unhappiness of all those around him who were subjected to his irrational outbursts.