Night of the Matador

Pre-stuff: Matador translated means “killer” or “subdue”. The outfit of a toreador is named “traje de luces” or “suit of lights”.

Also, I’m a Taurus.

I was awake thinking about her. I’d spent a better part of the evening cleaning and packing for a weekend trip and in the process lost track of time. It was 2am and the alarm for work was set for 5.

Still, I was on my side with my hands beneath my pillow. Thinking about her. My eyes blinked and I forced myself to allow the tears to come and stay. “You should cry now,” I whispered. “You’re allowed to.”

In a few minutes, I’d closed my eyes and searched for sleep.

The light from the closet was not bright enough to match his ethereal figure. In my mind’s eye, I could see him plainly. Sensing his presence before he’d even entered the room, I was scared to look in his direction or acknowledge that he was there to make me aware that the time was coming.

Yet, there he was – a white, glowing human outline. I could sense down to the stitch the outfit only he could fill. He settled himself at the foot of my bed.

I knew what he wanted though I tried hard to forget. To not know. But feigning ignorance is unrealistic, especially in dealing with visitors like him.

The Matador spoke through my thought process. Simultaneously, he reached for my leg. I was still.

“It’s time,” I heard. “You need to decide. What do you want out of life?”

It was a surprise question! Here, I thought he’d come to warn me that she’d be going soon or that she’d be taken up in some way. But in the few seconds I had to think, I surmised: “He is here to tame the bull.”

My heart spoke first without my consent, “Success! Love! Good Health!,” my heart stuttered, then came again, “Happiness!”

I’d tried to get it all in there, but once the words left me, I felt guilty and begged “No! I want her to stay! I don’t want her to leave!”

But I knew. The Matador had taken the first answer. His silhouette nodded and faded away after patting me on the leg once more.

Two days later, around 5am, I woke in a jolt.

She was gone – I could feel that she’d left the world and a combination of color and sadness washed through me. A newness coupled with loss.

Two hours later, my mother called me to confirm. She’d passed away that morning.


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