Silent Mourning
By: Stacy L.
CATEGORY: Angst, POV
TABLE FIC
PROMPT: 065. Passing (from
stargatefic100) and 097. Writer’s Choice (from 100songs)
WARNINGS: None
COMPLETED:
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This story is written from Daniel’s point of
view and serves as a response to two table fic prompts.
* * * *
Please, please
forgive me
But I won't be home again...
I've passed away so many times that I've lost count. I used to fear death. Now
I'm intimate with it. One has to be to have experienced it as many times as I
have. Each time it becomes easier to leave this world behind, but harder for
those who care about me. I've made it a goal now not to die. I believe the next
time it happens I won't be coming back again. One can only cheat death for so
long before it catches up to you.
I sometimes accept death with open arms. Sometimes I'm prepared, I'm ready to
go and other times? Other times I feel that it's so unfair. I gaze at the
people around me and see how they fight to hold on to me, how they fear
something will happen to me. I see them clinging so tightly fearing that to
send me off alone will surely lead to my leaving them again, and I believe they
too know that death for me next time will be a one way trip. They are afraid.
They fear it. They fear losing me, and they fear having to grieve once more for
me.
Sometimes I can see horror in their eyes when I'm sick or when I'm injured.
When I'm healed they seem to release a collective sigh of relief, and I find
myself once again wanting to apologize to them, wanting to ask them to please
forgive me for leaving them.
And sometimes, sometimes I fear that they have already given up on me.
Sometimes I feel as if I'm not really there, as if I'm a ghost to them and
perhaps I am: one who floats in and out of their lives on a whim. I think it
angers them. I think I anger them. They have grown tired of mourning for me and
no longer seem to care. I fear they have already said goodbye to me and that my
presence in their lives is just a passing thing.
Do they love me? Have they forgiven me? Or have they become so comfortable with
me dying that it no longer concerns them? And if they have does that mean my
life is no longer important? Does that mean I am expendable to them? These are
the questions I sometimes must ask myself.
When I die am I just missing or am I forgotten: never to be mourned again,
never to be missed again because it has happened so often that they no longer
fear it too? Have I died so often now that I'm no longer worthy of being
mourned? Would anyone care that I have passed on or would they believe I'm only
missing and will one day reappear? And if I become missing will anyone care
enough to come after me or will I be abandoned as those who have loved me
finally accept that I am no more?
You won't cry in my absence, I know
You forgot me long ago
Am I that unimportant
Am I so insignificant
Isn't something missing
Isn't someone missing me?
Even though I'm the sacrifice
You won't try for me, not now
Isn't something missing
Isn't someone missing me...
Lyrics from "Missing" by Evanescence
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