And that is the end of the life that I thought I knew well, and as softly as it came, as softly did it go. The anguish and the torment would have been finally over for him, and as I looked into the picture of serene repose, I cannot but help if wonder if his life was a fruitful one? Was he satisfied with his life till the very end?
All the troubles that came with that woman he called his wife, the foreign girl that he would be inclined to label his 'daughter'. To what extent was the relationship a cemented one? Relationships are not limited to blood alone. Yet, would the airy connections that pass for a relation suffice?
The anguish seems all the more poignant when the house burned. Everything that he treasured, his possessions, all in a flurry of heat and light, all gone in seconds. The troubles that come with marriage.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment