We knew this day would come around eventually.
But it wasn’t a reality until I got that email saying I’ve been subpoenaed to attend court.
So the churning in my guts and the nausea I feel as I’m writing this with my eyes tearing up convinces me that this might not the easiest thing in the world. For my friend or myself.
One last hurdle. One last hurdle and it’s done. It’s gone. We never have to deal with it ever again and he gets deported after his sentence.
The relief of this doesn’t lessen the sweaty palms or the sick feeling in my stomach.
I worry about my friend. About what avenue she might take to deal with this, to get past it. However I can not fault her, this might be hard for me, it’s going to be hell for her. How she deals with this is whichever way she feels she can cope. Of me, all I can do is offering to be there.
I’m a but a buoy in the rough seas at the moment.
My own turbulence wouldn’t even match hers. Yet in a way I’m so proud of her. For not quitting. For not withdrawing and saying no more.
Sometimes there’s peace in knowing the fucker pays. I hope this gives her the peace she needs and deserves.
I don’t really have words at the moment. However when they come, I apologise in advance for the torrent of emotional posts that will follow.