There were once some highwaymen in the neighbourhood of Rabbi Meir who caused him a great deal of trouble. Rabbi Meir accordingly prayed that they should die. His wife Beruria said to him: How do you make out [that such a prayer should be permitted]? Because it is written Let hatta’im cease? Is it written hot’im? [sinner] It is written hatta’im! [sin] Further, look at the end of the verse: and let the wicked men be no more. Since the sins will cease, there will be no more wicked men! Babylonian Talmud: Tractate Berakoth
You all know I’m a total heathen, but I came across the above point made in various articles (mostly about whether or not it was okay to celebrate Osama bin Laden’s death) and I wanted something older. I think you also know I’m fond of the poetry in the language of some religious texts. And all that I’ve just said is totally irrelevant to what I want to write about right now.
Today, just before sunset, I got a message telling me that my abuser had died a few minutes before. My brain sort of froze in my cranium and my mind flatlined, I’m still dazed. Dazed, but okay, and okay because of the major change in 2010, which is when I learned how to banish flashbacks. Okay because in 1992 when my brother died, I knew he’d already paid for his stuff. It’s all about me, not him; he became irrelevant five years ago and the only thing I’ve felt since, was anger just after my mother died, that he’d outlived her. He was 90. I’m not being fecking pious and righteous, it’s just that, thank fuck, it’s just information now, and not much emotion. Unless dazed is an emotion. And I’m writing this, because this is the end of it and I don’t want to look over my shoulder again.
Death is the easiest of all things after it, and the hardest of all things before it. (Abu Bakr)