By Unchained
Date: 2001 Aug 05
Comment on this Work
[[2001.08.05.21.28.29454]]

Crucible


Every face that passed reminded him of her.  Every couple walking in the evening or shopping on the weekends brought her to mind.  There was no escape from her memory.

He felt her in slim instants between waking and sleep.  He heard her voice in crowded gatherings and turned with a jerk to look for her.  He sat in church with a looming sense of the vacant seat beside him and missed her presence.

He remembered every song they ever listened to together, every joke ever shared, and the private looks and touches they had shared.  He knew the toss of her head, the set of her shoulders, the motion of her walk by heart and finally admitted to himself that he sought it in every passing stranger with the unspoken hope he would see her again, and the ache of knowing that even if he did she would never be his again.

The facts grew in him slowly.   After long months he understood the truth of it all and knew that to go on with his life he had to let go of her memory.  Anyone else he ever met would be judged unfairly against her memory if he didn't let go.  The facts broke him and ground him and squeezed the tears for days until he was clear and empty inside.  

One morning he found himself awake with an unusual feeling.  It took him some time to be sure what it was or what caused it.  He discovered with surprise his pain was over.

The Bible spoke of this, he thought.  The beating of dross from silver until it is pure and white and strong.  There was a name for the fire that prepared the precious metal for becoming something more than it had been. The word spoke of a violent change amid the flames that alter the best and destroy the worst.
He wondered aloud what the word was again.