The Truth of Forever

I need to believe he was happy, but at what cost?  Perhaps I always needed to believe this, perhaps that is where the rose colored glasses came in at.  Perhaps.

I shouldn’t have gone looking through pictures, shouldn’t have forced it.  I shouldn’t have tried to convince myself, yet again, that he was happy.  The truth -the hard, cold, honest to goodness truth is that he wasn’t happy.  Regardless of what I wanted to see or believe.  If he were happy -he wouldn’t have done what he did.  If I hadn’t forced myself to believe that somehow, he was happy -maybe, just maybe, he would still be here.

My mind so badly wants to believe that somehow -regardless of how true it is -that he was happy.  Of course the pictures show he was happy -why wouldn’t they?  I’m not the type to snap pictures of sad or miserable people -I take pictures of things I want to keep, memories I want to hold onto.  The few pictures I do have don’t speak as loudly as the ones I don’t.  The gaps in between the ages and pictures tell a story louder than any picture ever could.

He wasn’t happy.

Yet I still want to believe, somehow, that he was.  Even if it means changing history.  Rewriting the past because I cannot live with knowing that he wasn’t happy.

But history doesn’t lie.  The missing pictures, the few smiles scattered in between tell a story loud and clear.

I found what I was looking for -I found my answer.  I just didn’t find the answer I was looking for.

Sure, I found one or two pictures that have him, smiling.

But between the lines, the missing pictures, the lack of evidence tells me everything I need to know -louder and clearer than any smiling picture ever could.  He wasn’t happy.  I didn’t want to believe.  I still don’t want to.

Yet instead of being able to do something about this -I am left to live the rest of my life knowing that he wasn’t happy and I failed to notice.

Dave on Wordpress
Dave
We are goofy, smart, funny and wild. We get mad, are happy, and sometimes sad. We reminisce, love, and live. We are who we are, broken pieces being put into a new puzzle. But arent we all? Just pieces. Trying to fit in.
Dave

Dave

We are goofy, smart, funny and wild. We get mad, are happy, and sometimes sad. We reminisce, love, and live. We are who we are, broken pieces being put into a new puzzle. But arent we all? Just pieces. Trying to fit in.

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