Mourning Until Morning

It’s been a little over a year since my divorce was finalized. Well, actually I should say “his” divorce, because I didn’t want it. Yes, I put up a facade to strangers and people that I didn’t feel were worthy of my truth. I wanted others to believe that I was strong and ready to move on and start a new life. Mostly, I wanted to make myself believe that I would be okay. After all, we’d been separated for a year and a half, I’d moved out of our home, and was going on with life as a single woman. “I’ll never let anyone see my sweat.”, I often said to myself.

The reality, though, was that my heart was aching so bad. It felt like I’d been holding my breath for a year and a half, silently praying that this was just another of the valleys that we would eventually arise from. But, it didn’t happen that way. So, after the divorce, I did what I’d promised myself I would do if the inevitable happened. I moved across the country. I left my tears to float in the Great Lakes and moved to the Desert to dry off in the sunshine.

The thing about sadness, though, is that it doesn’t care about the climate. Heartache and pain resides in the state of your mind and encompasses your heart until it’s ready to let go. I’m able to mask the disappointment and feelings of failure most days. There is power in constant sunshine. The way the sky lights up and summons me to awaken is what I look forward to each morning.

It’s the darkness of the night that reveals my loneliness, though. I close my eyes and the automatic playback begins. Laughter, a soft touch, promises, dreams made into reality, a house made a home, time spent with family, sitting in silence, shared secrets, late night runs to the store….I can’t cut it off. From the insignificant to the greatest memories, I reminisce uncontrollably. When will it end? How long will I be tormented by what was and what will never be? I lay here with memories of a love lost. And I wait until the next sunrise.

Until then, I’ll be Mourning Until Morning.

LaQuita Davis