Death Hurts!!!

Way back in my olden days, I managed to pay attention and study one of my favorite writers of all time—Edgar Allan Poe. I have to admit that the only writing I was sort of familiar with was his poem, "The Raven." In short, it spoke of a man who was sitting get in his library one midnight when a crowd flew into his window. Because he was alone and had nothing else on his agenda, he engaged in a make-believe conversation with the bird knowing full well that the only answer would be "nevermore" as he inquired about his lost love, Lenore.

Of all the lessons I had in literature (and other subjects), that one stuck with me the most. It was a man who was pining for a love—a deceased love—who will never return. Yes, I fully understand.

When I listened to the lesson, I often wondered why somebody just could not let the memory go. I need not ask anymore because I now know the answer. I am living the Poe experience.

As it stands, there is one sharp difference between the life of my favorite writer and me. He may have told his lover his feelings for her. I said nothing to mine. I never dated her or even proposed to her. For all I know, she never knew until after death that I loved her and wanted so much to marry her. Now, I have locked the barn doors after the proverbial horses have escaped. Yes, it is way too late for me. There is no need for me to talk to birds or any other non-human creature of the Earth. My very supportive friends are the perfect replacement. But there are times when my well-intentioned friends cannot fill the void within me. That is when I have to figure the answer out for myself. Thus, this is the reason for the existence of my tome.

As I am writing this, it is a cool and sunny day heading for the last weekend of September. I am sitting in my parked car so that I can see my doctor in order to get my annual checkup. As I am sitting here, I think about the significant directions around me. As I look east, I think about where I am from. It is called home. On the opposite side is the west. That is where I will find the high school where I met those very important friends, did various fun activities, had a girlfriend and, yes, met the true love of my life. If I turn to another direction, I'd be facing south where I would have taken my love so that we could have enjoyed a weekend at Atlantic City. Instead, my car is facing north. North is the last place I saw her very beautiful face. For it is somewhere north where we last attended school together. Our paths started together in high school and then separated after we graduated college together. And through it all, my gigantic mouth which usually got me into trouble never managed to say the words "I love you" to her.

There have been times when I wanted to confront my loneliness. I no longer need to be as social as I used to be. I am not happy anymore. I've restricted myself to just the people who know me best. I want no other people in my life. I live alone. I eat alone. I just do other activities where I need no one else around me. I just want a way to go back in time, see the youthful me, and give him a swift kick in the keister while facing him in the right direction. He did fine academically and became a teacher, but he did very poorly in terms of obtaining happiness.

Lately, my favorite activity is not playing music, watching a baseball game, or anything else I used to have fun doing. My favorite activity is visiting the cemeteries where all my loved ones are buried—parents, sister, friends, relatives, and HER. Yes, I visit her quite frequently, especially on her birthday and her death day. It is the very least I can do. I usually want to reach in her grave, give back the life she lost, and correct the mistake I did in my life. Unfortunately, that will never happen. It is a done deal. Maurice, it is over.

I now understand what was going on in Poe's head. I can't blame him as I now see that I am doing it as well. There are times when I take mental health rides. I simply ride around my area and stop to reminisce about what was and what I wanted them to be. I will mostly stop at places we once shared together—our high school, our college campus, the roads we may have traveled, or even just the sunset which I looked at in order to confirm my dreams which always included her. I even named various roadways that she must have driven after her. There is such and such turnpike or such and such avenue. They will always be well remembered because she was style, grace, and class.

At times, I just can't help but wonder about death. Can she and others see me? Can they feel my pain? Can they see the very small portions resembling any happiness that I may feel at times? I know that I am not happy. There are times when I wake up to go to work and I just don't want to go. Why? My drive—my motivation—is just not there. Yes, I need to pay bills and stuff, but I am just going through the motions. It is not like I am just starting out. It means nothing to me anymore. I just want to go back in time and correct every major mistake I ever made, especially letting my true love disappear into ambiguity. That was my greatest personal mistake of them all. I had found happiness, but I let it slip away.

Once in a while when I pass our college alma mater, I usually hear the disk jockey on my radio play the Billy Joel tune, "Tell Her About It." I really wish I did tell her about it back then.

Did she love me? I think so, but she was a very shy person. I could easily get up on a stage at the time and do what I did best. She was the opposite. She was shy and it was one of the many wonderful qualities about her. Then again, they do say that opposites attract. For every quirk about me, she was the opposite. That is just who she was—beautiful, smart, shy, reserved, elegant, graceful... you get the picture. She was all of that wrapped up into a lady—not a female, not a woman, but a true lady. I wish that I knew if she loved me. I like to believe so and I hope that she can see how much I loved her and still love her to this very day. I will love her forever.

There have been days when I have looked for her to come back. I thought that I saw her in the face of other women, but reality slapped some sense into me telling me that it is just wishful thinking on my part. Lately, I have often thought about a classmate of ours in college who shared some classes with me, but not with my love. The funny thing is that this lady also reminded me of my lost love because they looked rather similar and probably could have passed for sisters since they were both Italian, but it was still my lost love who I desired more than anyone else on the planet.

Even though I miss her so much, I am also aware that she may have other hearts out there who also feel the same way that I do about her as well. It is just competition that I will just have to accept since none of us could ever win anyway. She never married or had any children. She would have been a super wonderful mother to any children we might have had. I can picture having a daughter with her. She would have her Mommy's looks, her Mommy's brain, and her Daddy's sense of humor. I like to believe that I was the one she wanted to marry. We will never know and neither will I.

And so, I am back to Mr. Poe. I did not laugh at his situation then and I am not laughing at him now. I fully understand the lesson.

Will I ever be happy again? "Nevermore," quoth the raven.