Aging Capriciously

For the next several weeks, my blogs are going to consist of “autobiographies” written by some very special people.  They have one thing in common.  They are all dead.  Some have a burial place and some were simply discarded like pieces of trash.  Their stories will be told by the deceased themselves.  They cry out from the fields, rivers and graveyards to speak.  I have heard their cries.  They want me to tell their stories to you.  They want you to know what their living and dying was for.  This week, Cindy will tell you the story of her life and death.

Cindy the Wife

He beat me.  He beat me.  He beat me.  I hurt so badly from the pain.  But the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain.  I loved him.  Why did he hurt me?  He kept on beating me.  Finally, I yelled for him…