Bloodletting

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In the end it was a bloodless affair. Nothing about that has ever felt right . As my friend William Carlos wrote after leaving the hospital that night, “In the morning, I won't even have a scar.”

It seems so wrong that she would, that she COULD go so quietly. No violent outburst. No wicked wound to shock and horrify those who laid eyes and hands upon her on those last hours. It was as if she'd simply slipped out in the night, casually leaving her body behind to distract us all while she made her daring escape.

I still have her favorite bowie knife, tucked away in its leather sheath and stained with the blood from those late-night bouts of cutting.

Few things dare to be as precious as this.

In the end, it was a bloodless affair, except that it wasn't. I have never had occasion to mention it until just now and its not the kind of thing you tell other people anyway. Certainly not a part of any polite conversation.

On the night my daughter died, I started to bleed. And somehow I was thankful for that. I didn't have to befriend her bowie knife. Somehow my body understood Loss in a way that my mind would take months, even years to come to terms with.

Today it has been three years and two months since Ashlie slipped out the side door and left me behind … bleeding and broken. It feels like yesterday and also tomorrow.

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5 Responses to Bloodletting

  1. Jill says:

    I know life is not fair, but why must it be so? I wish that Ashlie were still with us, for her and for you.

  2. shelley joan says:

    "It feels like yesterday and also tomorrow." Yes. Damnit. xo

  3. Laurustina says:

    Jill & Shelly,

    Thank you both for always remembering her with me.

  4. Miss Bliss says:

    Yes.  It always comes around…and then it goes…but the harder part is that it stays…the loss and the love just stay.  A horrible cost standing side by side with the only gift you could possibly notice in the midst of her absence. I don't know what it is about love that is somehow so heavy and so light, but always worthy of holding.
    Every time we get here I have to breathe…slowly and with great care so that the loss and anger are not all that I feel.  I must be like you…brave enough to feel and carry the love.
    Blessings.

  5. An Old Woman says:

    Know that you are loved and that you are here for a reason.
    a distant friend

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