Distorted

When I sit by the lake, a face emerges from the rippling, sparkling waters to greet me. Sometimes, it’s the face of my mother, smiling up at me with perfection. Other times, it’s the face of my father, gleaming in pride. But the face I see most often if yours, and it lacks the warmth and happiness of my parents’ faces.

Instead, it is the face of disappointment, of anger, of utter sadness. Emptiness fills your eyes when your face stares up at me. But unlike the other faces, yours is just below the water’s surface, distorted. I cannot see your face in true light; I have not seen you clearly in so long.

It almost scares me that I cannot remember the colour of your eyes, the shape of your lips, the way you used to smile whenever you saw me. And then I am reminded that your face is one that I no longer see.

I don’t remember the last time I saw your face in flawless light, but I do remember the last time I saw you.

Your features were distorted in negative emotion, tears streaming down your face; from rage or sorrow, I don’t know. And I am sure my face looked similar to yours in that moment:: fear and guilt gripping every cell in my body.

And then, in five words, you threw everything we had away: “I can’t do this anymore.” With that, you walked away from a year’s worth of love and happiness.

Maybe it had been both our faults: you for giving up, and me for failing you. I had been caught up in my own life, travelling and working, I had begun to ignore your texts and your calls, and over time, I stopped responding altogether. Our conversations became short – just at night and talking about nothing worth remembering.

But despite everything, we still loved each other, I know it. Because you still wanted me to be with you and I always wanted you there, whether it was by my side or a thousand miles away. We both wanted each other around, even when we couldn’t. And when we were apart – at the times where we couldn’t be around for each other – we let love do our work.

It was the old saying: Love conquers all. But in reality, love doesn’t do anything. It relies on us to fight its battles.

We just figured that out a day too late.