Glad I deleted it because I plan to start it again but re write it so I can feel proud about I just didn't like the old stories and honestly started to cringe at them. So it worked out in the end
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What's the easiest way to a man's brain...
His heart. :) Just because you understand someone's past, doesn't mean you'll understand their actions. ————————————— Inpu's POV
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I know in the past he was hurt, but to continue that cycle fixes nothing, it only damages another; and soon will repeat over and over again. The form of numbness one feels when watching there children die in front of them is not a pain all will truly understand. But I do feel it and it makes it difficult for me to go about my day as usual; as if my eyes were made of glass or I had been poisoned. It hurts so much more than a simple headache.
A few days ago it had taken all of my strength to just make myself get out of bed today at all. The day I finally had energy was no better though, I had to bury my children next to my husband...
I could have cried then and there. The only thing that helped was that after the burial I managed to get a cup of tea. I sat on the porch swing that overlooked our small patch of land, and let everything wash over me slowly.
I couldn't remember ever feeling like this before. There was no reason for it, not really; there weren't even any words to describe the sorrow, anger, and sadness that overcame me in that moment, it was something beyond description, beyond words.
All I knew was I needed to be alone with it. And it felt good. I closed my eyes trying to push it away, and eventually it did work. When I looked up again I found myself surrounded by white petals from the lilac bushes that were growing along the sides of our yard.
They were floating gently in the wind as the sun shone warmly overhead. My heart filled with love for my family as my mind wandered back over their stories. It was peaceful, almost serene...Everything looked like them, simple colors would take me take to old times, sometimes I would sit by the graves and tell stories of me and my husband to him and the kids.
This was a cycle that would repeat all my life,many found me crazy or deranged but the comfort it gave me would help to block out such things. One day as I weeped at my husband's grave, after a long day where I longed to hold him our kids close, four little doves appeared, one was taller maybe older than the others.
They didn't seem scared of me, instead they sat there and cuddled to each other, the father motioned for them to follow and they cuddled to my lap. I smiled and looked at the grave....
