Guilt Monologue

Guilt: For the One I Couldn’t Save “Troy? Are you awake? Listen: I’m just coming in to say goodbye. Gram committed suicide last night and I’m flying down to South Carolina to be with Pappy. I should be back in a couple of days. I love you, sweetie.” Weeks had passed since Mom broke this news to me, and I could still feel the harrowing blows it delivered that Saturday morning. Gram was dead. Worse, she took her own life. The thought gnawed at my heartstrings like a lion devouring raw meat. I couldn’t believe it. Early one morning, I stood at my sink washing my face. I stared at myself for a long time in the mirror. My face still held the painting of sadness it received the morning I found out Gram committed suicide. I just couldn’t shake
You didn’t kill Gram.” “You should know exactly why I feel guilty!” I said, feeling my blood start to boil, “I heard her crying that night at the lake house. You heard her too! But I didn’t want to get involved so I just stayed upstairs. I could have cheered her up, made her smile. But I guess I’m too unloving for that.” It was true. The week before Gram took her life, we were all together at a lake house in South Carolina. One night after Gram got in an argument with my Mom, I heard her crying downstairs while I was reading. I could see the distant glow of the solitary light that I knew illuminated over a sad solitary soul. I, however, was frozen to the upstairs; I figured I shouldn’t get involved in the aftermath of the day’s debacle, and resigned myself to pity my grandmother from afar. I still wonder, if I did walk down those steps, if it would have made any difference. I wonder if I could have possibly saved my grandmother. I could feel tears start to roll down my cheeks and heat radiated of my face like a furnace. I looked up at my conscience again, who cast down a loving gaze towards the creature he cared so much