This could be the best thing you've written. She was 16, I was 19, or 20. Say too much, you're forcing her hand. Say nothing and she has no boundary, no one caring enough to say enough, at the risk of flinging open the gateway to excess by daring to say, enough.
That’s heavy going. A project not a partner, glimpses of potential keep you committed. Sunk cost, can’t walk away, but for me I walked so it wouldn’t take two lives.
“she used my brakes to stop just enough to keep going“
Damn. Just… damn. Because I’ve been there from the other side. When do you remember what love was enough to know you have to stop because they never will?
What begins as love slowly reveals itself as something else entirely: staying awake beside someone who is disappearing in real time, trying to become the brakes for a life that no longer knows how to stop itself.
And the hardest part is realizing that sometimes love doesn’t rescue anyone.
This broke my heart and filled me with gratitude at the same time. My heart broke for you and her. The gratitude is that with God’s help, I somehow slowed it down long enough to choose a different road. A better road. A road where healing and recovery saved my life. This had to be hard to write. Even harder to share. I’m so glad you did.
"Holding a woman who used to be somebody’s daughter" Oh, man. Had to take my glasses off and just get my eyeballs back for a few seconds. The weight of the empathy here - oof.
"She left me and went somewhere I could never follow…no one could follow": meaning, she died? My WIFE went like that. And Alcohol was the ride.
My mom and brother did the same
This could be the best thing you've written. She was 16, I was 19, or 20. Say too much, you're forcing her hand. Say nothing and she has no boundary, no one caring enough to say enough, at the risk of flinging open the gateway to excess by daring to say, enough.
I have no words for how beautifully this is written. I have goosebumps. I was there with you in the moment.
Thank you for the words
That’s heavy going. A project not a partner, glimpses of potential keep you committed. Sunk cost, can’t walk away, but for me I walked so it wouldn’t take two lives.
“she used my brakes to stop just enough to keep going“
Damn. Just… damn. Because I’ve been there from the other side. When do you remember what love was enough to know you have to stop because they never will?
“It’s vigil.”
That line changes the entire piece.
What begins as love slowly reveals itself as something else entirely: staying awake beside someone who is disappearing in real time, trying to become the brakes for a life that no longer knows how to stop itself.
And the hardest part is realizing that sometimes love doesn’t rescue anyone.
Sometimes it only keeps watch.
Now I connect the depth and intensity of your previous writing.
Rest for a bit, if you want. We’ll be here when you get back.
This broke my heart and filled me with gratitude at the same time. My heart broke for you and her. The gratitude is that with God’s help, I somehow slowed it down long enough to choose a different road. A better road. A road where healing and recovery saved my life. This had to be hard to write. Even harder to share. I’m so glad you did.
Heavy story. But you can't drive someone else's car. Can you? It's hard.
Your writing is probably the most honest writing I’ve ever experienced. Thank you for sharing it.
"Holding a woman who used to be somebody’s daughter" Oh, man. Had to take my glasses off and just get my eyeballs back for a few seconds. The weight of the empathy here - oof.
Fantastic writing, Old Man.
This is so powerful!! Thank you for your vulnerability in sharing. I felt this in my body.
Thankful you could not follow her -
Prose, or poem? Touching regardless. Well done, good sir.