She was tired to the core of her being. Of literally everything. But mostly she was tired of herself. The failure of her life.

She had desperately hoped for children but it was a pipe dream. Miscarriages and an announcement of infertility by a doctor that looked like he was mentally planning his next golf game had ended it.

She had searched and thought she found love in several marriages. Some of the marriages were better than others. One was an unmitigated disaster. They had ended in divorce. She had been angry at the first one. After the second, she had begun to slowly realize there was something wrong with her. The subsequent marriages only seemed to prove her point.

She had given up. Tired of failing to find that one soul who was truly hers and she was his. The person who would understand her and whom she would understand. Would there be fights? Undoubtedly. Would they say the vicious hurtful shredding things she had heard from too many who had professed to love her? No. They would grow together. They would have laughed, talked, shared, compromised. Enough common interests to share. Enough diverse interests to grow. Found passion in each other's arms and love in the small things. Waking up next to each other and holding hands while walking. In their human imperfection, they would have found happiness. Not pie in the sky billionaire happiness. Just happiness.

She never found him. She tried to find purpose. In her books, embroidery and travels. Worked for a non-profit helping children and adored the job but the workplace itself was so toxic, her hair was falling out. They eventually canceled the program even though it had been a resounding success the three years she ran it and they had consistently complimented her on her work. They had called her into the office, told her she had done a wonderful job and they were letting her go. She had laughed. She couldn't help it. 'You rock! Now, fuck off.' had run through her head.

Three years of hard work making sure the kids had what they needed. She had made sure they had holiday gifts, clothes, even beds. It had always been okay that the kids never knew her. She had known them. Names, ages, favorite colors and clothing sizes. It had been enough. Who would do it now? Would there be anyone to help them?

After that, she foundered. Too many vicious screaming arguments with her husband who made it clear she wasn't quite good enough. Who she was lacked in, well, just about everything. He said that wasn't what he meant but it was. She knew it and so did he. As an A type personality, he was a "go to you drop" person. She wasn't, preferring her books, her dog and smelling flowers.

Never being quite good enough eroded her. No different than the sea stealing from the land as it pounded on the beach. She let it consume her confidence. It was always a tenuous thing anyway. It had died leaving a withered core surrounded by a façade. The façade was enough for the people around her. Who would notice if she was hollow? No one cared about who she was on the inside anyway. It mattered to no one.

It took some time before she realized she was living for her mother and her dog. Oddly, that was okay. It felt like they were the only two beings who would notice if she was gone. Not wanting to hurt them, she loved them with all the pieces of herself that were left.

Her mother's death had been devastating. In one quick moment, she had lost her mother and her best friend. For the first time in her life, she gave into the wails echoing inside of her.

It was a relief to allow them to finally escape. She had exhausted her body in the process but the grief was unending.

Her mother had been Christian. Believed she would rest after this life.
The woman knew better. She had memories. Other times. Other places. She had even met a few who had known her in the past. Knew details she told no one for fear of 'crazy' being added to 'worthless'. So, if she lived again, would it be better? Did the soul she was so desperate to find even exist? She clung to the idea that it did. It was her last hope.

Now, all she had left was her dog. He was her gentle giant. How many times had she cried on him? And, ever patient, he had let her. By his presence alone, he brought her comfort.

Three days ago, he had passed. Quietly, she had put her affairs in order. The last tie was gone.