ANGELS ARE CRYING
ANNA
I didn't want to learn the name of the anguish. My life was so ruthless and unjust. But who was I to condemn life? I was Anna, or a ghost, or a shadow of her. Because that was all that's left of me now—a walking dead—I wondered if ghosts were alive and breathing.
Life was my expert judge, and it was passing judgment on me too soon. I was prepared to bid my soulmate, who had been my partner for the past five years, farewell. We were so in love when we were young. Age didn't matter in love.
My school was when we first connected. He came to give my class a demonstration lesson. Both the kids and I were giddy with excitement. Throughout the entire session, I kept an eye on this man, this Italian physician Marco De Mayo, who not only captured the interest of my class but also won my heart. Everything went well after that, and love guided our relationship. It was a happy time, and there was only one step left until we were united before God. I adored the man I was with, and I never looked back.
But now, the massive lump in my throat was preventing me from breathing. I was unable to continue because my spirit was in such excruciating pain. Without him, how would I survive? How was I supposed to learn that when my heart, which had always been complete, was now empty and broken in two, a deep dark hole where I was losing myself in?
I had to get ready and head to the funeral home right away. Marco was waiting for me there. I was afraid and terrified to go see him and to stand there staring at his frozen face because he was cold, stiff as stone, and white as marble. I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and wore a simple black dress. Emily, my dearest friend, would pick me up. It was quite difficult for me to keep my sanity because my entire being was trembling. A loud horn in front of my house woke me up from my grief daydreaming. I only needed two minutes to get to Emily’s car.
"Hello, sweetheart. How are you?" My sorrowful eyes welled up with tears at the sound of Emily's somber voice and her concern for me.
"Hello Emily, I'm trying to survive," I said but I was not not sure if I sounded credible.
I've always disliked compassion, but this time the sorrow in her eyes and the agony in her words tore me to pieces that were impossible to mend. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to reconstruct myself or be reborn. I was afraid and by myself.
He was there, motionless but still gorgeous.
He put on a life jacket and prepared for impact in some way. It must have felt like hitting a rock because it was above the ocean. Death gave its final statement. The body was located and collected, autopsied to determine the cause of death, and then cleaned and dressed to make it tolerable to look at.
It was important to me that he was now at peace. And I, how was I? To be honest, I didn't know the answer to that. Perhaps I would never.
Numerous people came to bid me farewell and offer their condolences. I felt like a robotic automaton, controlled yet lifeless, with no memory of the past or the present. This state was referred to as denial. Although I was moving and breathing, my soul was not breathing.
I was supposed to give a speech, but I had trouble getting the words out of my throat. I wanted to cry for help, but no one could hear me, so I sat quietly in my reserved seat in the tiny church, breathing in the scent of incense and pleading with God to help me resist throughout the entire ritual.
I just wasn't able to control my emotions. It was all coming at me like an avalanche, and it was larger than I could take.
“How are you coping, dear?” As she spoke, her voice became shaky. I struggled to grin, but a sharp pain pierced me instead. My mother-in-law was here and asked about how I was feeling. How would I respond to this? To stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks, I looked up. They burnt so intensely that they even caused deep scars in my heart. My throat tightened as my heart rose, but I forced it back down. Why now, when she never gave a damn about me?
"We all need to survive, Carla, including me" With the lie I told her, I could practically hear my heart breaking, and I prayed my suffering was gone and gone forever. I simply couldn't afford that emotion, though.
Saying my final goodbye was the painful, hard part that came next. I had to gather myself before I could go to his coffin. My chest tightened. I stared at him in breathless amazement and uncertainty; everyone was looking at me and feeling sorry for me. I kept telling myself everything will be okay, but my courage started to fade. I sighed deeply as I continued to picture him while lying there as if asleep, despite my tired eyes seeing him. The burden of the situation suddenly fell on my shoulders. Tears started to form behind my eyes.
Six men emerged out of nowhere in the wooden door frame. As they walked into the church, the stillness persisted. They took a quick step in the direction of Marco, and I immediately realized why they had come. The depth of my despair was palpable in my eyes.
The reality finally became clear to me at that point. He was about to give up on me permanently. I was telling myself that nothing in my life would be sufficient if I didn't get over him. I followed closely behind those men, my head sinking into my palms.
His final resting place was right there. How did I become a widow playing this part? Pain was replaced by the anguish of being alone because I was powerless to fight depression. When they moved his coffin to the front and delicately set it down, I fixed my teary gaze on it.
The preacher read a passage. I started crying but didn't notice it until my ribs heaved as if they were suddenly too heavy for me to breathe. In spite of my best efforts to contain my emotions, they continued to fall quietly and slowly down my unmoving face as I stared at Marco's mahogany coffin and bid him a final goodbye.
Under the glare of the sun's powerful rays, the vivid springtime colors were so cheerful. They appeared to be working together to show to me how life would continue without him. The light in my heart had been dimmed forever since he was no longer present. I waited for the funeral service to complete while grieving silently. The loneliness I was experiencing was so overwhelming. My heart was so tightly encircled by the wind's tentacles that I nearly lost consciousness as my mind transformed into an icy abyss.
I dropped my head in despair as I watched the coffin lowered into the ground. I bowed my head in resignation. Goodbye, my love!