Two Faces

Saturday night again.

Another night alone.

Another night by himself in the home he'd paid for every month for the past 13 years.

Another night listening to people talk on the television about things he no longer cared about.

Another night looking around and seeing nothing different tonight that wasn't the same as it was six months ago.

Another night of the same passing of time from one minute to the next.

Another night of the unending feeling of loneliness and sadness.

Another night of laying his head on the pillow she used to sleep on.

Another night of unending sorrow and pain.

Sitting on the edge of his chair, Terry looked around the living room. It was empty of everything that once made it a home.

Gone were his children.

Gone were the lives he'd brought into the world and raised from birth to adulthood.

Gone was the wife he'd loved so deeply and who he'd love until the end of time.

Tonight, Terry knew, would be the end of time.

All his life was gone now.

Children gone, wife gone, life gone.

That was what he saw as another minute clicked off the clock on the wall.

And no one knew. No one knew the depth of Terry's pain. No one knew how deeply he hurt inside. Even his closest and dearest friends could not see past the veneer he kept on the outside. The pain was a constant companion day after ever hateful day. It ate at him through the day and devoured his nights in persistent memories and sleep-depriving dreams. Pain harassed him whether awake or asleep. It was as present in his being as was the blood in his veins.

Terry hid it well.

Terry had two faces. Terry created the face of normalcy. He could show anyone and everyone that he was okay. He could show them he was getting along with his life. He could show the face which said he was living his life and taking it one day at a time since the loss of his wife.

But what those with whom he lived his life of normalcy didn't see, behind his eyes, was the sadness and pain which tortured him by continuing to alive.

Behind his eyes, deep in the soul of his being, Terry hated life as he hated nothing else. He was angry at life, angry at breathing, angry at the sunrise and angry at the sunset. Each experience reminded him that he was alive and he hated each one.

Tonight the sun had set for the last time for Terry. He was tired of struggling. The decision was made.

He knew beyond a doubt that his life was over now.

 His thoughts drifted to those who would be left behind. He loved his children, but knew they would be okay even if he was gone. He respected their love for him, but now they had lives of their own. He knew they'd miss him when he was gone, that they would cry tears of sadness. He knew they would always wonder of there wasn't something more they could have done, or something they should have seen, a sign they should have picked up on that would have kept their dad another day. They would ask themselves if there some words they could have said to keep Terry on this side of the endless darkness.

He knew all of this, and in his last note to those he would leave behind, he'd release them of all responsibility for what would happen tonight.

They would read it.

They wouldn't understand.

They hadn't seen his soul and how tortured it had become.

Terry couldn't stand the sorrow.

But no one would know how sad and how depressed Terry was because he never showed them the other face.

Day after day since the loss of his wife, his love and his life, friends and family had been there for him. All had come and offered there help to Terry and his children.

But there was no help for his loss. There was only the sorrow, there was only the darkness, only pain, in his life; there was only the ticking of the clock to remind him of another minute he lived.

Terry knew however, he wasn't living. He was caught between the light of today and the darkness of tonight.

No one knew the darkness of the end was calling him.

It was not the face they saw.

With the tragic loss of his wife, Terry was comforted through the hardest times. He was always with someone. His pastor, his children, his parents, his friends were always close to him. They nursed him and reminded him that he was still alive. They saw his tears and heard his whispers of love to his wife.

And days turned into weeks.

“Time will ease your pain” he was told.

They lied.

The pain didn't stop.

Every day it reminded that he was alone. Every day was painful. Every day was as bad as the first day without her.

But since they were all lying to him, he would lie to them.

He would show them another face. He would give them what they wanted. They wanted to see him healing and “getting past the pain.”

And for nearly six months Terry lied his way though life.

He went to work every day.

He did his job.

He talked with friends.

He laughed at their jokes.

His listened as they spoke.

He went to church and prayed to God to make the end come, but knew it would be his own hand that would put an end to the daily chore of living.

They would tell him he was looking better. They would tell him he was sounding better. He would thank them but in reality, he did not care.

His mind was elsewhere.

But they did not know.

He lied very well.

The face they saw was the face they wanted to see. He was healing. He was going to be okay.

He was not.

Tonight he would finally show them the other face.

Tonight they would learn how he much he'd lied to them, just as they had lied to him.

Terry heard the clock she'd loved so much chime the hour of nine. The time she and he often went to bed. Terry stood, turned off the television and the lights, made sure the doors were locked and the plants were watered and the answering machine turned on.

Terry then went to bed for the last time.

Three days later, a friend from work to whom he'd given a key many weeks ago, “just in case” found him.

His body was cold.

He was at peace.