Into the Unknown

Diane

All of us have an amount of hatred within ourselves. Whether it's minute, or a feeling that completely takes over our hearts, all humans are vulnerable to that form of expressiveness, and I believe that sometimes it goes unreasoned, undervalued even.

    Arguably, there are times when hatred isn't needed and sometimes I believe that. My husband fits under the category of "hating every person just a little more than he really needs to", and I have no doubt there are other individuals on this earth who would labeled that way as well. This degraded world molds us into such a form in a strategic and methodical way that none of us know it's actually happening. One day we're the most loving, innocent individual, and within a second, we can turn into a monster, unleashing something from deep inside ourselves that we have never experienced before. Usually once the monster is released, it's difficult to trap it back into the abyss where it once hid itself. For the rest of our lives it's a constant fight, a never-ending struggle, between maintaining a clean conscious and at the same time holding back the hatred that protrudes through all the goodness a person has ever known. Years ago, I heard that once a person feels hatred for something, it's difficult to ever take that feeling back; once you've experienced it, hatred is like a drug. It slowly kills a person and becoming hateful is something that can turn into a dangerous addiction.

    The more hatred there is for something, the more it seems to tear you apart from the inside out. First you ruin yourself mentally, becoming deprived of love and gentleness, neglected of all the appreciation you had once known. Then all those thoughts become locked in your mind and the only way to release them is to take it out on others. Seeing and hearing from families that individuals abuse one another start to sound more relatable to yourself since you think that abuse isn't so rare.  Once you start hating other things it travels back to yourself. Like the snap of a twig, you all of a sudden hate everything about yourself. Mentally, physically, emotionally - you begin to notice all the small things about yourself except now everything is worse, which convinces yourself that you'll never be able to change. People avoid you, you are ashamed of what you have become, and all you can do is be angry because anger has blackened the once-loved heart you maintained.

    Whoever killed my dear granddaughter had to have felt like that. For someone to have such anger, jealousy, and hatred perspire so greatly that they had the gut-wrenching motivation to murder a person is something that's inhumane.

    Some part of me think sit might have been her own grandfather, my husband, but then I remember how loving he constantly was with her. But, then again, people change, sometimes secretly, and it can be years before it's revealed to anyone else. The two of them were thick as thieves, telling each other all of their secrets and never telling me anything about them. To this day there are certain things I don't know about my husband but Shelby knew them. Deep inside me there's a little jealousy that bubbles up every once in a while because of my granddaughter. Although, the majority of the time I was always overjoyed in her positive, optimistic, lively presence. For a blessing like that to fade away is truly unfair.

    I sit on the back porch facing the pond, watching the sparrows fly through the sky, dragonflies hovering over the body of water buzzing to wherever they're going. Off in the distance on the opposite side of the pond there's a deer. For a second, we make eye contact, then seconds later it leaps into the bushes as if it was never there to begin with.

    Phillip is nowhere to be found anywhere near the house or on our property, but in my moment of serene and calmness, I'm trying not to stress about it. More often than ever before, his disappearances are becoming more common. Nearly every day he leaves the house for at least some period of time, which is how it's been for the past several months. I don't know if Shelby's death is the reason or if something else is going on. Either way it's a secret that I don't believe I'll ever get to know.