your presence —
the leaden grey ashes
as the line
I'm very late to the party, I'll admit.
This poignant one line poem was inspired by the final episode of BBC Sherlock "The Final Problem".
These words bubbled up after I (with a writer's mind, as usual) imagined how Molly would feel after that call.
How would she feel, with her insides ripped open and her vulnerabilities all laid bare?
After all, she loved him for so long. Years, in which she would date and get engaged and try all ways and means to be over him and fail.
It was vivisection for Sherlock, but I would dare say for Molly too.
Sherlock finally said it; he finally said those words. But did he mean it?
Molly wasn't present to witness the dawning of realization on his face (which was apparent to the audience). She probably didn't have a chance to speak further after they exchanged ILYs.
Molly still had no idea whether it was all just a sick, twisted game, in which her role in it was the foolish lab rat, electrocuted over and over by her romantic affections.
There might be happiness, no doubt, but clouded by a great wall of doubt.
It will be, as I understand it, a tragedy. So many days not lived. So many words unsaid. - Eurus
But enough about Sherlock - for now.
I believe that scene was so emotionally impactful because it resonates with us. Deep down.
Because every one of us remembers a time where words were left unsaid.
It could be to Mom. Or Dad. Your partner. Or your best friend.
They are tragedies in their own right. Why?
We mourn them, by replaying those unsaid words in our minds over and over again. Our tongues turn over each vowel and each syllable despite the bitter aftertaste.
The ghost of regret comes back to haunt us.
Photo Credits: Taylor Grote, Unsplash