My ex-husband died last year and his legacy, surreal as it might be for me, is for many others, that, ‘He was a good man.’
In life I allowed his lies to flourish by remaining silent. That was my fault. I also had no intention of speaking ill of his memory, the one he built in the minds of others after I escaped. I will not allow the lie to tarnish my future because I did not speak up again.
I remained silent because I chose to live, but new life has been breathed into a new monster. It has been given a new platform created, and held together, with old lies.
The monster of lies raising its ugly head this day, leads my memoir into the next section of my journey. I will tell you about the new monster I allowed to control me. That monster provided an illusion of power. He contrasted that illusion against my sisters mother’s psychic vampirism.
Truth dies as lies fold into the earth, whether by wood or ash, and lives on only in the minds of the deceived. Shallow graves and shallow memories make up the history baked in the flames of passion, but violent delights have violent ends (Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet, act 2, scene 6), and truth keepers whisper the known to the unknown, but in death we are all the same, bullshit just gets a new name.