“I” is for I Will: A Long Story Shortened (Fiction)

I Will

Who knows how long I’ve loved you, you know I always will.

Shall I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will.

For if I ever met you, I didn’t catch your name;

But it never really mattered, I will love you still the same.

Love you forever and forever, love you with all my heart;

love you whenever we’re together; love you when we’re apart.

And when at last I find you, your song will fill the air;

Sing it loud so I can hear you. Make it easy to be near you.

For the things you do endear you to me, Oh you know, I will. I will.

(Lennon, McCartney; permission pending.)

The regular members of the grief support group watched on in silence as the frail old woman hobbled to the podium. Although it was obvious from the vast network of wrinkles lining her face that she couldn’t possibly be a day under 85, the thick, curly, snow-white waist-length ponytail and bright blue eyes lent a certain vestige of youthfulness to the woman’s appearance. After tentatively reaching out to adjust the mike, she dabbed at a tear that threatened to stray down her wizened cheek.

“Hello, my name is Melody McDonald and I’m here because a friend of mine suggested that I come and share my story with you. It’s a very long story, but I will try to keep it short; time is running out, and the story needs to be told.

“I’d always thought that the term «falling in love» was odd, because I’d always envisioned it as a raising of the spirit, an enlightenment of the heart. And so it was rather ironic that day at the airport; I wasn’t paying much attention where I was going as I walked towards the customs area. The loudspeaker must not have been working very well, and I was straining to hear the sweet melody with the slightly Irish lilt to it when I ran right into a very tall man with the most delicious twinkly blue eyes. I fell at his feet, as he did mine, and when he offered his hand to help me back to my feet, I KNEW I had fallen in love. And, do you know what? So had he.

“Shortly thereafter, he moved into my apartment. Never had I been so happy as I was in the time we were together; we were so much alike in so many things. Can you believe that in the five years we were together I could count the times we quarreled on one hand? It’s true! We loved the same music, our political views were the same and, quite ironically, we even had the same degree in the same subject.

“And he was so sweet. He’d come in while I was working at my desk and just come over and give me a hug, then stay for a bit of conversation. He loved to talk, and talk, and talk… And when we watched TV in the evening, we often had no idea what was going on because of the stimulating conversation. Boring? Never! Conversation interspersed with music: unbeatable!

“And then…he died. He just left: one moment he was there and the next, he wasn’t. Only five years instead of the lifetime I had envisioned, with the two of us growing old together. I was sixty-one, and that was thirty-eight years ago.” The old one woman stifled a sob before continuing, “At times, the pain of his loss is unbearable; I try to put on a brave face, but I miss him…” She stopped as the sweet strains of a lilting, Irish sounding melody filled the air. The people rushing to the podium stopped abruptly as Ms. McDonald fell at the feet of a tall, slim man with twinkly blue eyes.

 

© “I” is for I Will, a Long Story Shortened, 2014 Mary Purpari

After Sexual Violence: a Story of Hope*

Sexual assault can be a devastating experience that can destroy our very lifestyle, but the emotional pain can be overcome with patience and time.

The evening of September 15, 2002 was without a doubt the most terrifying evening of my life: it was the evening I saw my life pass before my eyes as I faced the man whose intentions were of the basest type – sexual assault and possibly even worse.

Follow Your First Instincts

I’ll admit that I completely left myself open. I was stranded in a tiny Sicilian village named Leonforte on my way to Nicosia – where I was supposed to meet my daughter – after participating in a faculty meeting in Siracusa. Unfortunately, the bus driver neglected to mention hat he would only be going as far as Leonforte, instead of all the way to Nicosia. I was furious, especially since the only pay phone in the “town” was in a bar, and my home phone was busy and my daughter’s cell phone couldn’t be reached.

The only customers were a nice–looking young couple who offered to give me a ride to Nicosia if I paid for the gas. I was unsure – they had been drinking – and I was worried that he might have an accident. With the clarity of hindsight, I could see that the bartender was trying to warn me against it, but I was tired and had absolutely no desire to spend the night on a park bench in an unknown town.

I began to realize I was in trouble about 5 minutes into the ride, when he stuck his right arm over the seat and started caressing my leg and told me he wanted to have sex with me. I scooted as far away as I could, which wasn’t far enough, and then pushed his hand away. After the third time, I had the presence of mind to scratch him.

That, and a lot of fast talking, probably saved me from serious harm. I didn’t pass unscathed emotionally, but I learned a few valuable lessons during the recovery process that I’d like to share.

Report the Incident to the Police

So many men and women refuse to go the police for a variety of reasons, including embarrassment and fear of not being believed. That is so, so wrong! The police need to know, because if they don’t, they can’t stop the offender. As in my case, the offender is very often a repeat offender; not reporting him or her could lead to more victims, something that could have been avoided had the report been made.

Press charges once an identification has been made and the offender has been apprehended. Maurizio had already been identified several times, but when the time came to press charges, the girls gave in to peer pressure and Maurizio was released. I was the first woman to actually take him to court; I won my case and Maurizio now has criminal charges on his record.

Don’t Blame Yourself

A lot of people are going to blame the victim, so you don’t need to do it, too. Thoughts like “if I had only…” are NOT going to help you. Regardless of what you may or may not have done, if someone has intentions of hurting you, they most likely will. I was lucky that he was drunk. If people blame you, stay away from them. They are NOT going to help you recover.

Get Emotional Help

Don’t keep it all for yourself—share it. There weren’t any help groups for victims of sexual assault in Mistretta, and psychologists were hard to come by and expensive if you could find one. However, I had a lot of friends who were willing to lend me an ear and give me hope. My family was a great strength for me, especially my husband, when I would wake up in the middle of the night screaming because of the nightmares.

One friend in particular helped me by encouraging me during the most difficult times, especially when I considered the idea of withdrawing charges. She helped me realize that Maurizio wasn’t going to come get me if he was in prison, but he sure could if he was out. And she was also the one who made me realize that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. I should take it as a compliment, kind of back-handed, perhaps, but still a compliment.

Sing a Song

Something else that helped me immensely was to choose a song to sing every time thoughts of what had happened came to mind. I chose “Angels We Have Heard on High”, and at the beginning ended up singing it about 50 times a day, including in my sleep. I would realize at that moment I was entering a danger zone and quickly change the direction of my thoughts. It was truly a big help.

I can’t tell you what to do in case the rape should result in pregnancy or disease, except to turn to medical and psychological assistance. Pregnancy is such a personal experience and is best understood by you and your doctor, just as only a medical doctor will know how to treat a disease.

A victim of sexual assault will probably never recover completely – 9 years have already passed since my experience, and I still have the occasional nightmare, but my song is always on the ready – but you can still have a satisfying, happy life. We all need help from our friends and professionals in overcoming the pain, but the power to recovery lies mainly in ourselves.

*This blog was originally published on November 21, 2011 by myself, Mary Purpari, for Suite101.com; I hold the copyright.