Love is Pain

It’s been two years after the incident. And here I stand over the grave of Carrie, the most magnificent woman I ever met. I can still see her radiant green eyes looking into mine, and the way she would smile when my father told a joke. It seemed as though it was yesterday. I found out two weeks after she had died what had happened. It was all over the headlines in the Bronx. The feeling I felt when I read the article was indescribable; Pain, anger, hatred, guilt. I should’ve known that Theresa would push her to the end. But I hadn’t suspected it to be so soon. I knew I should’ve took action long before we parted, but something inside me didn’t make it seem right. So who’s fault was it then ? My father reminded me every night that it wasn’t my fault; that it was her mother. But I can’t quite see what he sees. What I do know is that Carrie is free now, happy as a clam. And as long as she is happy, so am I. Because I hated seeing her cry, and her smile would brighten up my day. So every time I see the sun set and the sun rise, or the stars twinkle above the park, I think about how grateful I truly am because I know Carrie did the same. Life hasn’t been the same since she’s been gone, but my love for her hasn’t changed