Starting at the beginning is the hardest part of grieving, telling the story, it all comes back, piece by piece, wreck by bloody wreck; tearing away at the psyche until there is nothing left but a bleak black space. Or maybe that space would be white, black is the colour of a 3rd degree burn and there is no pain there. That is the saying, searing white pain, burning, nothing left. It all sounds very morbid, I am not that person. After all he took her but he gave me something back, like it would make up for erasing her from everyone she knew besides me, who still remembers her.
The worst part is that in a messed up way it does make up for it, she wasn’t happy here, and as ruined as it all seems to me, there is no sorrow for the others who never really knew her. And besides, I pushed her towards him, because in the beginning I was naïve to what he was really taking.
I realize all of this is really vague, but bare with me, right now it’s all a terrible sunburn that will start peeling so there is no tan as a reward, just lobster skin that is shed little by little every time you scratch.
My name is Emma Howitzer, and that metaphor is great because like Lena, when that sunburn disappears, it won’t even leave a mark. The skin cancer afterwards is a reminder of the mistake of being naïve enough to not stay in the shade.