I answer my phone. It is someone that I have not heard from in a while. “Hello.”
Screaming intermixed with sobbing, “He fucking killed her, Jeff. He fucking killed her.” Dominos click and clatter in my mind at warp speed, confirming the passing of prophecy as it becomes a truth of past events. Yes. I know. I knew. Predictable. I tried to help her. I spoke to her, even in front of you, and as usual, my words were ignored, acknowledged with only a hazed look, perhaps in an attempt to fool me or maybe just to get me to still my disturbing words of hope. She did not want to listen. She did not want to hear. She did not want alternatives. She was just setting up the stage with her first outcry; nothing more. No real concern. No real desire. No real hope. No appreciation for self worth. She had already given up. I knew then. I knew. Did you really expect any other outcome? How could you? But still, my heart bleeds for you…it bleeds for you, your mother and your little girl. I wish I could make a difference in your life…offer help, compassion, sympathy…..catalyze peace and understanding for you, if you will. But it will not happen, not really. There will be an expected exchange, but not acceptance, not true understanding, because fear ravages your soul and it racks you with torment and suffering and anguish and denial…just like it did your mother. The cycle is repeating itself…and repeating itself almost in a mirror image of the same tragedy. It is so clear to me, so damn clear…why can’t anyone else see it? Why won’t anyone else say anything? Do anything? It even seems like most of those surrounding you, like your family and close friends, are even steering you down the same damn path of self-destruction; of soul-withering, momentous, masochistic, distortion and the willful denial of the graces of unmitigated reality in their properly deserved perspective; the true graces of beauty, of love and of choice. And in silence…a deathly, deathly silence, I am screaming at you and screaming at your mom and screaming at the whole fucking world, the whole fucking world and even God himself…what must I do? What must I give? Why won’t you fucking listen? Why won’t you listen to me? Why do you prefer the beasts? Why do you prefer the alienation of the crowds of me, me, me? Why do you run to them? Why? Why? Why? Why not take my hand…why not, my brother…my sister…my friend…my mother…my love? Why won’t you take my hand and stand with me, together, as we should….as we were meant to? Stand with me…against the world, if you must. What is a world worth of beasts promoting your misery, your torture, your infection, your crawling, your masquerade of your true self, your conversion, your separation from a soul that sees you? What is a world worth that has been turned upside down to lead you away from your own soul as it also isolates you from the souls of others…is that not Hell? Is it not Hell? And are my wings not burning as I dive back into your Hell, having escaped mine once, and risking imprisonment, again, behind those fiery gates which may trap all souls? How can you refuse to see the difference between a fellow soul and the beasts that surround you? Why would your mother do such a thing to herself and thus to you?…and of course…my mother did the same to me…I have told you over and over, so you would know that I understand… so you would know that I get it, so that I could convince you that my hand was a hand and not a fucking claw from a masquerading beast, but it doesn’t matter…it fucking doesn’t matter…because your mom chose the world and the beasts, just like you do. And to chose the world of the beasts, you chose to become a beast yourself; a tar baby beast, infected, corrupted, and converted, only to create more beasts and more madness, until that tiny spark of awareness and that fragment of a soul you have been unable to smolder completely, weeps so damn much, that it drowns itself. Then you take your final Fall; you slaughter yourself or you beg the beasts to slaughter you…because God can’t be so cruel, can he? Because you know in that persistent, tenacious, soul fragment that holds on to your flesh, that none of this makes sense… none of it. If God is that cruel, then he is worse than Satan ten-fold, and everything, everything should be obliterated… and do you kill yourself, because maybe, just maybe, the demon is somehow only in you, and you have gotten it all wrong over and over in your mind… because that would seem more probable and it would also offer more hope for the world… or do you kill them, God’s supposed children, the demons they are, the multitude of cruel and mindless and unaware creatures, who in reality, slaughter every shining soul they can, and if they don’t slaughter you, they cripple you and turn you into a slave… perhaps drugged for your own good or perhaps harnessed for your energy and mind to accomplish what they cannot in capability and skill and dedication, while they laugh like demons in debauchery, trying constantly to out trick, out lie, out spend, and out fool every other demon and especially… especially… especially… every other soul?
“Lisa……Lisa……I need you to listen to me…. listen to me. Slow down. Slow down, okay? I’m here….. I’m right here. I need you to breathe, okay? I need you to breathe….. and slowly, tell me what happened. I am listening.”
A few days pass, before a similar, yet different conversation, takes place. “Lisa, your mom would want you to be happy. She would want you to escape her demons and avoid the traps that she fell into. If she were standing here right now, don’t you think she would tell you to walk away from the anger and grief, and the depressing circumstance of her death? I understand vengeance, but vengeance will not bring her back and it will not lead you down a path of love or help you honor her more. I know how you feel, I understand, and he needs to be punished, but try…please try to think beyond your anger and your emotions right now. I know your mom would want that. She would want you to be happy. She would want you to smile and to think of her. If she were standing next to you right now, don’t you think she would tell you to remember the good times that you two shared? Don’t you think that she would say something like I know I fucked up being a parent a lot, but I loved you the best I could, I loved you with all of my heart, I tried Lisa, I want you to be happy, be happy and don’t end up walking all the way down the same damn path that I did, see the mistakes, my mistakes, see what will happen if you follow me, and then, for God’s sake, don’t do it, don’t, be happy Lisa, remember me smiling at you, and remember me hugging you, and remember the time we shared together, please don’t forget those moments. I think that is what your mom would want. I think that is how she would want you to honor her death…by thinking of those things and not focusing on that monster.”
“I know you’re right, but that son of a bitch needs to pay, he took my mom from me…he took my mom, Jeff…he took my mom. She didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve to be treated like that. She trusted him. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve to be killed. I am so mad and angry that I can’t think straight…I want to kill him. He needs to die. I am going to make sure that he never has a chance to do anything like this ever again. My mom didn’t deserve that Jeff. She didn’t……she didn’t…he took her…he took her away from me. I hate him….. I hate him. This isn’t right.”
“Lisa…listen to me okay….please listen to me….your mom knew what she was doing…she knew….she knew what would happen sooner or later….I know she knew….your mom made the choice to go away…to say goodbye…she gave up and she chose this. She knew he was a monster and she stayed with him for a reason…she knew what he would do… it is very sad…but it was her choice…she basically committed suicide and decided to take that monster out with her at the same time… I swear I believe that….. I truly, truly believe that. She knew what she was doing and where it would lead Lisa.”
“I know….. I know. She…..she left some things around her house that confirm what you are saying.” But of course she did. And if she did, then for God’s sake, and for your sake, and your daughter’s sake, pay attention to me and what I am telling you… to what I am begging you to consider. Stop it. Stop the madness. Stop the insanity. Forget the damn monster… hating the monster, doesn’t hurt the monster… it only turns you into a monster. It only gives you more reason to not pay attention, to not find peace within your own soul, to enlist distraction after distraction after distraction to shield you from your own fear. Hating the monster is only…only…only, about you. Vengeance and dwelling upon it is only another obsessive compulsive method for you to distract yourself from your fear… it isn’t about your mom and it isn’t about justice and it isn’t about what is right… you are hijacking justice and forging it into a shield of distraction, just like damn near everyone else does, and then playing the perfect television role of a grief struck daughter who’s mom has been murdered by a ruthless, abusive spouse or boyfriend. You are not seeing her chosen part in her own destruction. You are not seeing that she chose an abusive man to party with, and then, that she also chose to be slaughtered by the same man, all because, her life finally reached a point, at which she could no longer ignore or deny the truth about her previous choices and experiences. She never truly admitted the intense anger, pain, and regret that she felt for the demons that tortured her throughout her childhood. Nor, did she ever accept, that she was responsible for preemptively destroying a relationship of rare and powerful love, simply because of her own irrational fear and insecurity. Neither, did she ever fully embrace and acknowledge her severe, heartfelt remorse over the tragic loss of a second man in her life, who was stolen from her, ahead of time, by the fact of death’s early calling. You can’t go through all of that shit, and then sit there with a big, goofy-ass smile on your face, and just fucking pretend that life is nothing more than an uninterrupted pipedream, in a have-a-nice-day, super-duper, bliss-filled paradise. You can suck down those tempting, enjoyable, intoxicating fumes only momentarily, and only if they are kept in their proper context. To transgress those boundaries, rips a fucking soul apart; drawn, quartered, obliterated, apart, and that is what your mom did, and she did it voluntarily. She chose that path; she chose that destiny; and when, her old, chronic, sustainable pipedream of distraction finally smoldered, the rips were so damn painful, that she diverted all of her focus towards the ultimate loss of all hope. That distraction was the only thing that remained in her existence, which possessed enough reactive and volatile vehemence to obliterate the conscious awareness of her secreted, subconscious demons. So, she chose again, but this time, she chose to want to have her brains bashed in… she wanted that… first to prove that life is cruel and mean and full of misery, a confirmation of a sought, self-fulfilling prophecy to justify all of her fear….. and second, because she felt she deserved it… she deserved the punishment for making the mistakes that she had… for not protecting her daughter as she should have… for not being what a true mother should be. Knowing that she was to be punished, helped her set things right within her own mind, even if her fear, never allowed her to simply admit the truth to you. In some dark, twisted, fucked up way, she could partially atone through a crown of thorns… or really through multiple cranial fractures, epidural hematomas, and the squashing of brain matter, and on top of it… she would end as the victim. Get it… the victim… you can’t ever hate the victim for being weak or running away from reality or leaving your daughter in the hands of a predator, can you? But, a subconscious talks in riddles… it knows truth and it knows denial, and though it confuses the two, and sometimes chooses a clear cut preference of one over the other, it will usually yield a mixture of the two, to lurk about. I believe that despite it all, your mom was trying to do her best, and even though she was hanging from the noose of fear, she was still trying in some way, to tell you and to show you, that you should not follow her path. She was trying to tell you that you should face your fear…and she was also trying to say that she was sorry…sorry, for passing the demon of fear on to you.
“You know that I liked your mom. You know that I am not bashing her. I am just trying to help you. People speak in many different ways and I think your mom is still speaking. If you really loved her, listen. If you really, really, loved her, Lisa, listen to her. I know she would want you to let go of the hate and fear and any dwelling upon misery. She would want you to learn from her mistakes…..please… don’t make the same mistakes. That is how to remember your mom. That is what she would want. I really believe that.”
To be continued…