It has been nearly a month since my monster took his last breath. I can't sleep without seeing his horrible face. I feel my heart racing, I get clammy, I'm freezing and sweaty all at the same time. And when the panic finally wakes me, it takes longer than it should to realize that I'm an adult, in my own home, and it was all a nightmare. And the monster is dead.
I am still seeking out some sort of peace. Some cathartic moment where my heart is healed and my dreams stop morphing into nightmares. I'm seeking a release that I know will never arrive. He died denying what he did. My horrible memories live on.
I fought with the notion of going to the funeral. I certainly was not "invited" and may have caused quite a stir just by walking in the building. In the end, I didn't go. The weather that day was terrible, and since I'm battling this concussion driven migraine, I was not feeling the best. The night before I went back and forth about going more times than I can count. I grappled with the notion that going would give me some closure; but I realized that closure would likely never come to me. I certainly deserve it; every victim does. But, the idea of closure seems so foreign, so exotic...impossible. If the best a victim can ever hope for is being able to live each day without being ruled by their trauma, I'm already there.
What is closure? What gives one person peace may not be enough for the next person. Who is to say what is necessary for closure...certainly not me. I don't know what it would take for me to feel like I am truly fully at peace with my past. Certainly having the monster admit his guilt would have been ideal. Perhaps I would not have lost so many others along the path of my healing. Until the end though, he lived his lie.
It sucks that the truth is so painful.
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