My Grandad died this morning, after being in the ICU after a car accident on Sunday. I've been trying for hourse to write just this much, and even still I wish I could write about him and his life, and not how I'm feeling; but I think at this point I have to let it out in order to get to that point. So this may not be excelent, but I had to give it a go.
I'm shutting down
because I pressed the button before
the tears could short out my wires.
But just because I'm shutting down
doesn't mean I'm self destructing,
because those are two different buttons;
and the other one's not worth pushing.
And even though it was self defense,
it doesn't make much difference,
because when the salty tears fall from
they're just as corrosive.Read more »
It's not like in the movies
Where moments are made
by a man furiously scribbling backstage.
It's a lonely, cursed phone call
bearing this news that is a dagger
Thrust into the hearts of all.Read more »
My Dad's Company Car
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In this car my family and I dropped off my brother at his first year of college
In this car I was squished between two 160 pound Football players for eight hours.
In this car I comforted my mom as she went through a friendship heartbreak. Read more »
I can't think of words
that haven't been overused
or used before, but better.
Where are my own when i'm trying to feel some release.
The pain of losing someone hurts because you are helpless. We really hate being helpless, don't we? Even if we lost them years ago, to alzheimer's, dementia, or the cool kids, we still hope for a change, a flash of recognition or an apology.
But death is that final dot of puncuation that tears and burns its way into every cell in your body. You are grasping and reaching and stretching your finger tips at the surface, hoping to catch on to a scrap of hope, but Death sends along a forgotten fishing hook instead, and you cut yourself and hurt even more.
Why does it hurt? You haven't spoken in years. What if they can't talk anymore? What if all you've gotten in a pat on your hand from quaking fingers that are sticky with last night's meal. Those fingers are now at peace. Those eyes and the mind behind them ended so long ago that although they have been looking at the day through foggy lenses, they don't even remembering why they were once happy to see the sun.
But we are not about to rejoice for them 'Oh goody! they have stopped opening their eyes weekly and closing them bitterly again!'
That grief is the selfish desire to have back what was there ten years ago. That little bit of hope that shone under the doorway is the ficklist dame this side of a 1930's romatic comedy. Read more »
It was one of those nights where I just want to be home but never want the drive home to end.
Where I want the moon to allure you through the clouds, always far away, always far away
Unreachable, like the end of a rainbow
Looking ike there's a place I could reach and look at the bottom of the cardboard cutout of the moon in the sky and keep driving and it's behind me.
One of those nights where the voices in my head are yelling I can't do this I can't do this
I don't know what they think I can't do
One of those nights I want to put my foot on the gas pedal and accelerate forever
One of those nights I hate for all the lights to be green because I need to stop for a little bit
Let the red light illuminate the weight of grief being dropped on my shoulders again.
Is it grief?
I'm not sure it is, is it stress? is it loss?
Is it longing?
One of those nights I cry three times to the sound of NPR, short bursts of nothing that end like they began
and leave your eyes cloudy
like your vision is the moon, peering through the clouds
One of those nights the voices in my head are yelling
and I feel so alone
with the red light and the weight of longing.
One of those nights the Big Dipper peers through the windowshield and says hello
Every star is a sun
The universe is massive
You are tiny
Everything is so much bigger than this
You are not alone
I am not alone. Read more »
I know you're in pain. I see it written on your face every day, even when you're smiling. Except you're not smiling your smile, it's different.
I can read you like a book. A page turner, leaving me wanting more, waiting until I can read you again. I've marked my favorite lines in my memory, saved them so I can reread them later. At first glance, you seem average, regular, boring; but I don't judge you by you cover like so many others. I read on, searching for the feelings written on the pages of your face.
So I can see the pain behind the smile as you laugh at some joke that you don't care about. I read it in your eyes. If you could quit pretending to be fine, admit for a moment that you aren't ok, then I could finally hold you. Let you cry on my shoulder, like I've wanted to let you this whole time. Because things will never be ok, but they will get better.
I want to help things get better. Let me be part of your story. Let me write a happy ending.
I hate you
My voice is echoing in the silence between us
I mean it
I just can’t…
I trail away
Averting my gaze
I can’t think of any words for what I feel for you
At that precise instant
So I pause
But it doesn’t last long
I shout at you
For what feels like years
I scream curse words that don’t belong in a place like this
I yell about how I should’ve run away
The day I met you
About how I never should’ve talked to you
About how the knives you drove into me
Were unlike any other
And how you hurt me
In ways I never could’ve imagined
Your utter silence kills me
I end my rant with a scream
I should just throw all of your stuff
Out onto the curb right now!
The only sound in the graveyard
Are the tweets of birds
I sink down in front of your gravestone
But I won’t
Voice cracking on won’t
I don’t say anything after that
Because what can I say
The same things I say every anniversary
Say I’ll never throw your stuff away
Because after two years
It still smells like you
Say that I still leave our door unlocked
Because I’m still hoping that you’ll have just forgotten your key
And you’ll walk in like nothing happened
Say that I was right about you wearing a helmet
When you rode that goddamned motorcycle
Apparently helmets don’t help as much as you’d think Read more »
Author's note: while on my vacation last week, I saw this scene...
Fresh rain mixes with salt tears
newly dug earth turns to mud
the grieving girl stands alone
as the heavens pour down on her
tears no longer suffice to
express her despair
her mouth opens and she wails,
collapsing onto the grave
the destroyed girl mourns
the boy, his future, their past
as her body numbs
she remembers his wide smile and caring heart
she is alone, all alone without him. Read more »
I wish you were here to share this moment with me
I wish you were still here
Instead I sit alone and wish
Wish I had one last chance to hold you in my arms
Instead I sit here alone
Dear Leonardo it’s been a few years
Can you believe I can still find tears
To shed after all this time
Since you held me and promised to be mine
Dear Leonardo it’s been so long
Since we exchanged golden rings
Dancing as they played our song
Felt like we were flying on feathery wings
Oh Leonardo I’ve been so scared
Keep thinking of those moments we shared
Stolen from me in the middle of the night
Burning pain that still sears
There’s only one last light
Dear Leonardo where do I go from here
Dear Leonardo guess who I’ve got in my arms Read more »
As the words slip into the air, it seems they are just small talk. It’s a nice day, school went well, and she’s gone. My grandmother is dead. Why aren’t tears flowing down my cheeks? I’m upset, because I’m not upset. I stare out the window at a beautiful day, not sure what this lack of feeling means. Read more »
One Old Man,
Unable to control the tremors,
Fights to only keep his voice steady.
He tells us that she is not yet gone.
Frantically searching the three generations present,
His body language beseeches us
Not to forget her. He has to believe
In our hearts.
Even if he dies, and his children die,
The grandchildren must keep her alive.
He quivers as waves
Of emotion ripple through his body.
Old women, middle-aged men, young adults, and children
Wonder at the burden suddenly wedded to their shoulders.
We will all depart and at the same time remain for a period. Read more »
I heard what you said,
on the telephone.
She didn't look at me,
I ignored the slight
she had in her voice.
"You're father wants to speak to you"
and so he did,
in mimics and whispers about his dying
sister's husband who had once
(for fifteen years)
only been a lover that no-one
in the family had liked.
it's a waiting game,
with one hand on the door-knob and
one ear by the phone
waiting for the ringing sound to
expire from the plastic hunk sitting on the
The bags are packed and we're
waiting to head out the
door to the car to the highway Read more »
Memoir to Borimir
Of the archer's cruel bow,
And the everlasting foe
Came the great blow of horn,
Heartfelt grief was then born
In an elve-crafted boat,
His body afloat,
Branded a traitor,
But died a defender.
A Tribute to the Lord of the Rings books
As the firth chill of winter sweeps through my body, the first frost of the season sprinkles the blades of grass, the first time my nose turns red; as all these tiny signs of winter commence, my own heart is touched with the same sense of coldness that tightens the layers of my skin. I suddenly recall that a whole year has gone by once again, this time adding up to the seemingly small, but truly large number six. It seems like the faster the days, months, springs, winters, falls, and summers go by, the farther I stray from the warmth, from the comfort, from the person I used to be. Read more »