Infamy: The Last Love Letter
The fact that music has such an impact on literally every human and has more power than watching tv and doing what you see, every other hour makes a wishful act of dominance. Music takes you to a place where you can embrace the beauty of something you cannot touch or control in terms of what the lyrics are, who sings it, where it’s available for streaming, ect.
Tommy made music. He was really good but that wasn’t good enough. He was done with this place before he got here. I just wish he could still wipe my prophetic tears. I wish he could calm my prosthetic fears.
I was there virtually over text when he ended his life. He didn’t want to be here anymore because the girl who would have been his wife isn’t here anymore. He jumped down death’s throat in a beige coat with a leather belt, so drunk he couldn’t see. How could this happen to me? How could I be so far away when I was needed the most I’ve ever been needed since I gave birth.
Tommy, I know why you chose suicide. I don’t blame you but I will never condone it. I have to sit with your last words to me and mine to you that you will never read. I’m interceding for you even in death because your spirit never died. I know how many times you tried. You finally succeeded. I’m sad and angry. I have to live on because you will have died in vain if I don’t. Both of can’t go. Both of us won’t.
You breathed for me on some days. I need the era of your praise back. I won’t forget the impact you had on me when you were here. It’s all becoming very clear. I will shed tears but I will smile and laugh too. God took you so you wouldn’t throw yourself into a pile of needles. You knew that I knew, that I know. So you had to go. I didn’t believe it at first but when I saw that my last text never went through, I knew what was next. It meant moving on without you.
You don’t understand what it’s like to be me and suddenly remember that I can’t talk to you until the next life when I will meet your children and your wife. Or maybe you’ll reincarnate to me. It’s your choice but I doubt that if you have one, you’re going to return to the bridge you just chose to burn. This isn’t a lesson to learn. It’s a tragedy. I can’t imagine life without you and yet I have to because you’re gone and I have to move on. How? I made so many sacred vows while you were alive, hoping that you would survive and eventually thrive. I guess I was making them for me instead because God already told me you’d be dead. My voice is shaking, Im hanging on by a thread. My heart is broken, still breaking and I feel utter dread when I have to break bread without you.
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