Monday, July 23, 2012

Hold and Release



A man that I deeply despised for hurting someone I love has died.

I can't say that I hated him, because even during my hottest anger at his actions I did not hate him. But I did wish he were dead. He hurt his wife deliberately and repeatedly.

Multiple hospital visits a year. Rehabilitation to learn how to reuse her hands/legs/speech after his whippings triggered strokes.

I just wanted her to leave. The support network was there but she refused to leave until it was a decision between returning and surely dying or missing him and living in peace.

August 8, 2012 would be a year  to the date of her choosing her life over her love.

When I found out he died I had to swallow the "Good!" that started to form on my lips but instead lodged in my throat.

Karma had come. And that felt good and warm.

Yet the part of me that knows it is wrong to wish ill/hurt on any living thing felt guilty of the immense relief the news of his death brought me.

I would go on to discover that his human existence was nothing short of tragic.

His mother died when he was a baby and his father left him to be raised in a orphanage. During the periodic visits he did have with his father he experienced the abuse he would later use on others. He was not taught how to love and apparently never learned.

As much as his wife loved him he could/would not give her the same care and provision he received. He met sugar with salt. Fire with ice. Embraces with fists, gabs, and pushes.

And now it is too late to redeem himself. To make things right. To love and be loved. He died sick and alone. That makes me sad. It must be hell to die alone.

Perhaps I did hate him. I release that hate.

Humans are not build to carry toxins in our hearts and minds.  It eats us from the inside out. I did not just learn of the death of a wife beater, but a broken child/boy/man whose life will be always be remembered with pain and derision.

Tragic.

I feel as though I should give alms for his soul. Pray that he returns as a flower. Something gentle that brings comfort. A second chance to give and receive love this time around. If only....

I need to go hug someone. Please hug someone in memory of the child/boy/man who never learned how to love.

Hug them tight.