[For a moment, that is the only response that comes. During the pause, Regis battles with himself on exactly how to answer. Her pain echoes so strongly with him and yet, his own experience seems less somehow. After all, while he grew up with Aulea, that time is still minuscule in the face of a love that lasted twelve thousand years. Yet...if he lets that stop him from reaching out to her, who will?]
After my wife died, I locked myself into my quarters for three days. I didn't answer for anyone no matter who it was. I left food untouched. The pain was so great, I forgot everything besides it. My country, my son, my responsibilities, my role as king. All that I knew was the pain and the feeling that part of me was dying, was leaving to be with her. The emptiness just grew as did the wish to follow her.
I'm not certain when the king began to stir again; I have no clue when he reluctantly accepted advice my father had tried to pound into my head for so many years:
"Your heart will be the death of you if you do not tear it from your chest."
Perhaps he was not completely right, but he was partially. I am certain the man inside of me died then. If he did not die, then he was buried alive by the walls the king created so that we could continue, so that the country could continue, so my son could have a father.
I thought burying it was the only way to go on and so I emerged from my room distant and missing part of myself. Missing a part was better than missing all, right?
Coming back here showed me how wrong it was to deny myself healing. Here, you have gotten time to heal no matter how hard and hurtful it was. The collapse, the damage it did to me, I would wish it on no one. Not only do I have a hollow in my heart where she once was, but now I have another which is the husband she once loved. [Is he being too hard on himself? Perhaps, but it's hard to tell from the inside where pain still echoes and blurs facts.]
It's sad, isn't it? That we find blaming ourselves easier than accepting they have forgiven us a million times for things that didn't even happen?
no subject
[For a moment, that is the only response that comes. During the pause, Regis battles with himself on exactly how to answer. Her pain echoes so strongly with him and yet, his own experience seems less somehow. After all, while he grew up with Aulea, that time is still minuscule in the face of a love that lasted twelve thousand years. Yet...if he lets that stop him from reaching out to her, who will?]
After my wife died, I locked myself into my quarters for three days. I didn't answer for anyone no matter who it was. I left food untouched. The pain was so great, I forgot everything besides it. My country, my son, my responsibilities, my role as king. All that I knew was the pain and the feeling that part of me was dying, was leaving to be with her. The emptiness just grew as did the wish to follow her.
I'm not certain when the king began to stir again; I have no clue when he reluctantly accepted advice my father had tried to pound into my head for so many years:
"Your heart will be the death of you if you do not tear it from your chest."
Perhaps he was not completely right, but he was partially. I am certain the man inside of me died then. If he did not die, then he was buried alive by the walls the king created so that we could continue, so that the country could continue, so my son could have a father.
I thought burying it was the only way to go on and so I emerged from my room distant and missing part of myself. Missing a part was better than missing all, right?
Coming back here showed me how wrong it was to deny myself healing. Here, you have gotten time to heal no matter how hard and hurtful it was. The collapse, the damage it did to me, I would wish it on no one. Not only do I have a hollow in my heart where she once was, but now I have another which is the husband she once loved.
[Is he being too hard on himself? Perhaps, but it's hard to tell from the inside where pain still echoes and blurs facts.]
It's sad, isn't it? That we find blaming ourselves easier than accepting they have forgiven us a million times for things that didn't even happen?