Tuesday, January 1, 2019

Another one of those dumb little things I regret:

That one time, when you were crying in the choir pew. I don't know why, I hope it wasn't because of me, but I was afraid it was. Have I already written about this? I don't remember. It was a time when you played in the liturgy, and you played something that always moved me deeply, and had a special meaning for me in association with you. And it was hard. I almost got up and left, but I thought I'd probably disturb you, maybe even break your focus, so I sat in my pew, gripped the armrest, and gritted my teeth.

When I saw you crying, I thought maybe you'd noticed, and it had upset you. And I did...nothing. You sat there after the mass ended, and everyone else filed out, and I went out too. Like a coward.

What I wanted to do was go over to you, kneel down in front of you, offer you a handkerchief, and ask if you were alright. And say I was sorry, if it was me that upset you. What I wanted was to be able to comfort you. But I was afraid it would just upset you more, if I tried to speak to you. And maybe cause a scene with your parents. Your mother already looked very angry at me as she left the sanctuary (reinforcing my thought that it was because of me). So I didn't do what my instinct and honor told me to do. I should have anyway, no matter what the cost to me.

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