She truly loved me, said suddenly the old man and exhaled deeply. Tear fall down his cheek. And another one followed until he could not control his emotions. He cupped his face inside his palms, leaned forward in his chair and continued sobbing silently.
He looked back on his life. He reflected upon his young self. He was trully dissapointed of his decisions and wondered how different his life would have been if he could have only seen where his heart was pulling him to go. Instead, he was too busy with his own life, too occupied by his desires, completely ignoring the essence, the real drive that like fire was burning inside his being. He had always ignored those people who cared for him, who loved him truly, were good to him, encouraging, and faithfully walking beside him. Instead he has chosen what seamed at the beginnig more adventurous, more thrilling life, that eventually made the same fire inside him to burn his soul, his mind and his body. Eventually, those earthly pleasures turned into nightmares, depriving him of sleep, following him everywhere he went and they were there in everything he had done. He had lost his flare, lost his identity under the pressure of his chosen life. He eventually lost his meaning and his life was shuttered into pieces, like pieces of the puzle, strugling to bring them all together, never fitting in the global picture. In the end, sadly, he lost the sparkle of existence and got left on his own, drowning his sorrow within the space of his last breaths.
She truly cared for me….he burried his face deeper inside his wrinkled hands. The sobbings continued but now with bigger intensity. He wished he could turn the arms of the clock of the Universe back in time and rectify his mistakes, take huge responsibility over his actions and never ever be able to feel the feeling of guilt over himself again. Oh God, if he could only do this, if he could only go back in time when his wife was pregnant to cuddle her gently, kiss her lovingly, stroke her tummy and feel his son’s first kicks from inside. If only he was capable of magic, he would have made himself present on the birth of his only son, waiting for that moment of pure truth, a boy to be brought to this world and with his own hands to hold that precious being, that flash made of his own genes. If only he could turned himself in the best husband and the most responsible and relieble Dad. He could have had those endless holidays, sharing experiences on their travels, life time achievements and time on earth with them. But he decided to ignore the joy of those events, simply because he felt he wanted more.
She really fought for me… he felt sudden squeese in his chest. He felt his intestines churning and the insights coming back up. He felt sick instantly. How could he cheat on this wonderful woman, who he loved deeply. This woman, the mother of his child, never showed any resistance to his decisions, no matter how hard it had been for her, keeping her dignity, she had let him go freely, to find his happiness and to discover his true nature. On the contrary, she had made herself distant, never available, so that she could protect her sanity, to slowly repair her life and re-build the future for her and the baby. He never heard from her again. At that time this was very comforting to him, as he did not really care about them. He now have regrets that he had never asked her how she felt, he never showed any interest in sharing her experiences, her emotions…He always thought that he had given her the biggest gift and that his role has ended. He simply walked away, living her to handle everything all on her own, telling her that she will be the most wonderful mother… And him? Where was he when they needed him the most? Where did he go? He felt his heart melting. His skin tightening. His chest being stabed with million sharp objects all at once protruding deep into his flesh. He felt no air entering his lungs.
‘I do not even deserve to have a heart’, he screamed and broke the silence around him. If he could he would have offered his heart to the guilt that was years old sitting heavy on his chest in return of few breaths taken with the fresh beginning, without that guilt pressing his chest.
Yes, he did many marathons, went on numerous expeditions, yes he climbed many mountains, he took beautiful photographs, he camped in the most random places, but his heart was empty and his home remained cold. His heart stayed with his little boy and his wife. There wasn’t a minute going by without him thinking about them. And he wanted so much to be there, to celebrate each and every birthday, to see the smile on his son’s little face, to count his milky teeth appearing, to read bedtime stories, to help walking his first steps, to play games together, teach him how to ride a bycicle, drive a car, and shave his moustaches…to be there when his son needed him to be. Sadly though, he was never there for him. His selfishness prevented him from enjoying the endless joy of life. And what’s more his son was never even aware neither proud of his achievements…
He could not stop his thoughts pouring, and he could not calm his racing mind, instead he closed his eyes, still wet from his tears, when pain crumped his entire body. He wanted to say something but his words were left unspoken. He wanted to write but his paper got left blank. He wanted to see them for the last time, those honest and sincere beings, his wife and his son, but they were far away, blissfully unaware of his state, of his regrets and of his guilt. He wanted to take a breath but his breath was never drawn…
He could have had it all…M