Afterwords

By Christina Marra

I have had many dreams in my life. I’ve always wanted to be an author. When I published my first book, my author dream shifted to writing three books. AfterWords is the second of the three books I hope to publish, the second book in my Words collection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Mar 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781982213954

Christina Marra

I often write about love. I also write about heartache. I write about the emotions of my life. I write to pronounce the silent feelings that should have been out loud. I write to never forget. I have one wonderful son who is the light of my life. I am a hockey mom, a soccer mom, a golf mom, and a swimming mom. I am also a working mom. I love my place in the world. I was born and raised in Vaughan, Ontario, where I still reside.

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 Christina Marra.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-1396-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-1394-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-1395-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018912300

Balboa Press rev. date: 03/112019

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

31674.png

I want to write. Not just a sentence, or a page… and not exactly a story. I have always loved to write.

It has never been enough to drape myself in words… I want to fill blank pages with random thoughts and emotional outbursts. I want to record love, and loss, and all of my emotions. I never want to forget.

I want to track my days with words unspoken; lost somewhere between my heart and my hand.

I want to be cradled in language; rocked gently to sleep, and to wake up in the awe of words.

31678.png31696.png

I stopped writing for a long time. Sometime between the infancy and the collapse of my marriage and beyond.

I faced many demons. I faced myself.

I fought and cried and loved. I allowed love. I suffered.

I was resilient.

Many strengths emerged. Many faces emerged.

I relied on the faces of strength.

I was vulnerable.

I was soft.

I was tightly wound. Sometimes I still think I am.

Triumphantly my words made their mark. Dark and random, and permanently etched. Words with a desperate hope to be found by the admiring eyes of a brilliant minds’ wonder.

Just like that it happened. You read me. And I was born.

31698.png31700.png

AfterWords is the second book that I have written.

My first book is called The Words of My Life. It is a collection of the words that were a tracing of my adolescent and early adult years. This biography of my emotions is fragmented… as was I. A roller coaster of impossible emotions at inopportune times, recorded together as a consecutive collection of words. It is a tracing of the loves and joys and pains of my existence.

I published The Words of My Life when I decided to take a stand for my being. I was at a crossroads in my life. Publishing my first book was a moment of me mustering all of my courage to look life in the face, and scream, You will not break me.

The Words of My Life was unedited. Well, only edited by me. My written emotions were left in the original state they were written. If you look closely enough, you can see me develop before your eyes. My growth is traceable. As was my innocence.

At the time, I was traveling through one of the most draining, emotional, and fearful times of my life.

The Words of My Life was my conscious combination of redemption, salvation, and emancipation.

As you fall into the emotions of AfterWords, may you read me well, relate to my emotions, and find comfort and maybe even solace, in my journey. May some part of my feelings parallel yours, and reach you, in this shared existence that is our life.

31702.png

For My Son Michael

&

For My Family

&

With Thanks

To My Muse

33301.png

Chapter 1

I am grateful for my son.

I am grateful for my family.

I am grateful for my health.

S ometimes I wonder if he thinks of me. I wonder if he misses me and if he wishes I was with him in his happy and sad moments. I wonder if he wishes it was me when he holds his new partner. I wonder if I cross his mind when he showers without me, or when he sees my things. I wonder if there is a void in him; an absence that exists because of his loss of me and of us. I wonder if he feels like he needs me, and if he does, I wonder how he gets past it unscathed or if he wallows.

I wonder if he imagines me in moments of future thoughts or if he has expelled me from his minds view of the future. I wonder if he feels regret and how often he wants to pick up the phone and talk to me.

I wonder if he misses my son and how often he looks at my picture. I wonder if he is truly happy that I am not in his life.

I wonder so many things. Then I wonder why I wonder about a person who clearly doesn’t want to be part of my life.

I am grateful for love.

I live in loneliness without him. Giant sobs of sadness grasp the rawness of my heart. I ache for him and I dream of a once ago life that I have yet to let go of. His words haunt my thoughts and my dreams and my living. I still ache for him. Every day. Even when I sleep my mind aches for him. The man I believed to be my true love.

I long for his embrace and his companionship. I still miss him in everything. I wish to call him with each new excitement. Each time I want to, I don’t. A fear has towered inside of me and I tingle from head to toe at the thought of speaking to him.

I cannot bear another shutdown. I cannot face his decision not to see me. I love him from afar and wish for him always.

I wonder if there will ever exist a me, without a hope of him. And what is more, I wonder if he exists as a him, without a hope of me.

33322.png

Chapter 2

I am grateful that I am determined and resilient.

I am grateful that I can forgive.

I am grateful for my dreams.

T here is something to be written about my soul’s wish for companionship.

So much of the image I have of it as I write this, is a dream of the life that I wanted, but have not, and may never achieve with B. I am not clear as to when my soul’s wish decided on him. If it was in our first meeting, or in our first touch. Or if it was in our first kiss. Perhaps it was in our last soulful embrace.

In my deepest wants for partnership I still envision him. My recollection of him is harder to imagine with months spanning since our last encounter. Yet still he is there in the center of my loving; even if it only exists within me.

I dream of a shared existence. A place in relationships miracle where affection and attention exist. A place where we acknowledge each other and work together, sharing decisions and goals and all of the dynamics we refer to as life. The place where we lie in bed together, our bodies raveled, and our hands together in the unity of love. A place where we belong together, as one, as individuals, and as partners in all things. Most importantly, our partnership in loving.

I am grateful for feelings and emotions.

And when I think of him my world turns over. I am reminded of his absence in everything. Like sunshine’s rays through storm clouds darkness, I fight to be revealed. Slowly and constantly and then bright and magnificent.

I am lost in thoughts of him, in dreams of him, and in wanting and wishing his return.

And what would we return to? Would it be the anticipation of a hopeful future or the return of apprehension and fear of what the next day would bring?

Yet still I hope for him in all things. His smile and his touch. The radiance and warmth that I associate with his loving. I am still lost in the dream of him. In all that we were, and in all that I wanted us to be.

And so I go on, as I always have. Hoping. Wishing. Wanting.

Wishing for him to realize my dream of longing, of loving, and of partnership. For me, he is still where I belong.

33327.png

Chapter 3

I am grateful for accomplishments.

I am grateful for music.

I am grateful for sunshine.

W hen I sleep at night I think of him. Images of our last encounter replay in my mind. I am restless in his absence. I envision us meeting and of the return of our passion. The passion that existed when we were together. The unmistakable connection associated with a bodies’ desire for another.

And in that desire my emotions burn for him. He is the center of my yearning; he is the image