The end came so closely after Independence Day that I still associate this holiday with my new freedom.
Four years of isolation ~ four years of abuse ~ four years of fear ~ four years of pain.
Seven years of freedom ~ seven years of happiness ~ seven years of hope.
I did spend one last Independence Day with him.
Drove a few hours up north to his second home.
I knew the end was near.
I remember mostly wanting to see the dogs and his cats and not really him that Independence Day. His pets had become mine for many years, and the separation from them was already starting to get to me.
He barbecued bacon on the grill to make BLT sandwiches that day.
The bacon caught on fire and got burnt to a crisp.
But we still ate it.
It reminded me of my life.
Going up in flames.
A somber Independence Day leading up to the end.
Fourteen days later, it was over.
My belated Independence Day had come.
I never, ever thought that day would come.
A Day of Freedom.
Freedom from abuse and everything that came along with those four years of domestic violence.
Those four years of secrets.
Those four years of fearing for my life.
A new day had dawned.
My life had just begun.
I celebrate Independence Day in a whole new way now.
Freedom has a special meaning for survivors like myself.
I thank God everyday for this freedom.
I thank God I am alive.
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