Portrays the last memoirs of a woman on her death bed accounting the events in her life.
| It is only towards the end of your life, you realize the mistakes you made in its beginning. I guess most individuals would find this a senseless statement. I am also sure that there are others who would agree.
I married first when I was very young at the age of twenty-one. He was a decent man a couple of years older. Our immaturity surpassed our love and lead to the dissolution of our relationship where I had made the decision to leave him. I often wondered during my life how he was doing. I heard from others that he was disheartened for a very long time. He eventually met the right woman years later in his life. Today his children are all grown up and have gone to college. I really am glad that he found the happiness that I could never give him.
After our separation I concentrated on my career. I got a job which I was apt in and concentrated on upbringing my independence. I held onto the expectation that all my dreams and goals will be fulfilled. A lot of want-to-be suitors came and went, but none of them fit my imagery of the perfect man.
My second marriage was at the age of twenty-seven. I thought he would be the right person and would adjust to my ways by accepting the individual that I am. To my dismay and shock, fate took the driver’s seat once again and proved me wrong. He was not interested in me or being my perfect husband. I was only a business deal for him where the financial gains were more appealing. His materialistic desires overtook the passion and put a dark cloud over my dreams of having the perfect man. The complicated divorce that took place soon after, left me paying him alimony for a very long time This stopped only after he had remarried.
I thought my life had ended as I knew it. Two bad marriages with too many years of discontent. I decided that I never wanted to go through the cycle of pain again. Was it because I left things to fate, or was it because of my own unwitting ways? I still have no answer. As the years passed, I prospered in my career where I made Vice-President. Behind my back, my coworkers called me “The Frost Bitch” . How appropriate. Strange how life can tone your outlook. I dated different men to satisfy my physical needs, with no relationship lasting more than a couple of months. I learned that nothing can grow without love.
I was a beautiful young woman then, with a lot for men to desire. Today I am much older, as time played its toll. At the mild age of 52, I found out that I had a cancer growing within. It was the type that could be fixed with a little medication. I almost started the treatment but then decided otherwise. The questions that echoed in my heart was “What for?” and “Whom for?”. I realized that I had nothing left to desire, at a time most would consider as their midpoint in life. I am not a suicidal. It may sound outlandish, but I found the cancer to be a blessing in disguise.
I lay today in this hospital bed with wires and tubes protruding from all over my body, while writing my memoirs accounting briefly my pathetic life. There are no flowers or get well cards on the table. There are no emails asking how I am or any phone calls with the sound of reassurance. Yes, I truly am alone. Today, my physician tells me that I don’t have much longer and that I should inform my close ones. I just smiled at him silently. I could sense his dismay as he left the room.
Laying here waiting, sometimes when I close my eyes I recollect the different turning points in my life. I wish I had been stronger and mature when I was younger. I wish the paths I had chosen were different. I wish I was more adjusting. I wish I had at least one person, to live for and who would hold my hands right now to ensure that everything would be alright. Last, I truly wish, I had someone to send this letter out to. No man is perfect – nor is any woman. If a clear understanding and a level of communication between both are maintained, then you have found the little piece of heaven on earth. Yes, it is only towards the end of your life, you realize the mistakes you made in the beginning.
She passed away that night, in her sleep, painlessly. No one came to claim her body. The letter was never posted.