Funeral for an Ex-Lover, Part 3

Whenever things go bad with a man, I remember a conversation I had with my mother.

I was seven, eight years old, something young and innocent like that. We were talking about boys, and I proudly announced to my mom that no boy would ever make me cry. Moms looked back at me, somewhat sadly and in her own language, said, “My child, the tears you will cry for men will fill oceans.”

You were right, mummy. It is not a truth I like to admit. The tears I cried filled oceans but for this one, I don’t have to cry anymore. He’s gone now and with it, my idiocy over him.

My Ipod continues to blare its messages that I did, after all, specifically choose for this event:

I loved you but,
That was way back then
Now I'm alone outside
And I face the wind
The rain washes me thin

Knocked me down and I got back up
And I got myself back in the race again
Knock me down, and I'll get back up
And I'll get myself
Back in the race again

There’s only one thing left for the grave. I cover up the picture and papers with some dirt, and then before filling up the hole, completely, I scatter some seeds overtop.

Forget-me-not seeds, an entire packet patted down gently into the earth, that I water with the bottled supply from my backpack. If they grow, and they will, it will be a patch of blue in a tiny forest of green.

There are many legends attached to this flower, down to the drowning knight who threw his lady a posy, shouting for her to never forget him. I suppose all that armour weighed him down and he sank like a stone. Ever since, it is said that women wear the forget-me-not as a symbol of enduring love and faithfulness.

It is another symbol for today, one of love and remembrance. I must never forget what happened. I must never forget what I did here, and I will never forget that I’m stronger because of it. And, if there’s anyone who should own my enduring love and faithfulness before I give it to others, it’s me.

Speaking of all things Blue, I look over to my dog, who’s very busy sniffing a patch of moss. I call him and he trots over happily, all waggly tail and floppy ears. “Thanks for coming with me, kid,” I tell him, and he licks my cheek in reply. “Do you need to say goodbye, too?”

Blue just cocks his head in reply, and is quickly distracted by a chipmunk. It’s time for us to go.

It was a good thing to do, I think. This is what I think about as I walk out of the woods with my dog. It was a good thing to do, and a good thing to put to rest. If anything in my life needed to be put to rest, it was this.

Yet another song carries us home.

I took my love and I took it down
I climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love
Can the child within my heart rise above
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing cause I built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I’m getting older too
Well...

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing cause I built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I’m getting older, too
Well I’m getting older too

So, take this love and take it down
Year and if you climb a mountain and you turn around
And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills
Well the landslide brought me down
And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills
Well maybe
Well maybe
Well maybe the landslide will bring you down