Eleanor Rigby

So the question still sits in my head. Where do all of us lonely people belong in the world? Eleanor Rigby found her place. She might have been deserted but she loved her life and she loved her solo world. That day that she died I saw a spark in her eyes that I have not seen in anyone else.

She wanted to live and continue seeing the world through her desolate eyes.

As I sit here on the bench, one year since her death, I look at Father McKenzie. He had never had that spark that Eleanor Rigby had. I had never had that spark. You had to love and live your life to be able to have that spark and I knew that neither of us lived.

It was a vicious cycle that neither of us could get out of. We lived in a world of emptiness and we couldn’t get out of it. I always wanted to know where it is that we, we as the lonely people came from. Where we were made and why it is that we were made to live our lives away from the rest of the world?

Maybe we belonged somewhere, Eleanor Rigby didn’t belong anywhere but she was far from being rejected and renounced. She lived in a world that only her mind could create and that world was sweet and it was precious and it was kind to her.

I watched as Father McKenzie took out the garbage and I realized that I could no longer look at him. I had tried to replace Eleanor Rigby with him, I sat and watched him for a year but I knew that I could do it no more. I had to learn how to live my life.

If Eleanor Rigby had taught me anything, it would be to enjoy your life before it was too late. Absurd stuff happened all the time and who knew when your end would come. Even if I were lonely I would enjoy my life. This year without her had taught me one thing and one thing only.

I did not want to be like Eleanor Rigby