Grief Written

The reminder came almost suddenly, subtly. Like heartbreak and grief that appear like an unexpected visitor knocking on your door. Or t he visitor of death, who takes your breath away so quickly without remorse. It just appeared. I nearly had forgotten. So I waited for a knock at my door. But there was only silence mixed with anticipation, dread of that rhythmic knock knock knock. Had I missed the noise? Usually it was deafening. Hard to ignore. The kind of knock that shook the house and rattled your bones. The kind that brings the house of straw tumbling down as my heart cowers in the wreckage with the terrible cry of "little heart, little heart, let me in."  And my heart replied "I still have bruises on my skin from the last time I let you inside." So heartbreak and grief huffed and puffed and stole my breath away. But today, I could breathe. Today, I felt only nostalgic. Today, I didn't lie in bed with your letter clutched to my chest tracing words that you n

We never got this far. But if we had we would've sat in the parking lot of the school. I'm sure you know exactly where. I  would've looked you in the eye and said "you will always be my ghost of almost." And etched in the silence would be the number six. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. These were my best days, And my worst day.

I gave in and let you give me directions to the next place. I drove. You listened. Gave directions when necessary.  But when we turned on the dirt road. Ignored signs telling us to stop. Ignored signs telling us the road was closed. To go home. When we went until we couldn't go any longer. We stopped. Unsure of what to do next. So you spoke up. Showed me another way. And when I pulled over and turned the car off you were silent. Unyielding. So I yanked my keys out of the ignition, shoved a sweatshirt over my head, and climbed towards the abandoned bridge. There's beauty in abandonment, but we can't see it in ourselves. I laid there right in the middle of the rusty dirty old bridge and looked at the real stars. The ones that burn out. Disappear. Somewhere in the night I heard a car door close, but no footsteps approached me so I stayed there in my pretty white dress on the grimy bridge. And when I had had enough I stood up. Your figure loomed on the edge of the other bridge.

I blew through a stop sign. I didn't mean to. My mind recognized it a little too late, I couldn't stop. I can't stop. Just stop. But I was going too fast. I'm going too fast. I don't have time. Brakes only work when you have a little time. We arrived at the park and I asked if you even wanted to finish. I could only hold your hand through the race for so long. Eventually someone had to lose. Someone had to take first and someone had to fall to second.  You told me you wanted to finish but made no move to get out of the car. So I left you there and ran to the swings. I swung hard and fast letting the breath be drug from me in little huffs. "Make me a constellation" I begged the sky. She tenderly touched my cheek and told me she would if I could let go. But I couldn't. My fingers were glued to the chains. I can't let go. Let go. The sky won't take you if you don't let go. But I couldn't. So she left me there. And you came. We swung in sil

We were lost. I  was lost. Each mile I became more and more frustrated because things never seem to fall into place. There was a wreck on the road. We had to take a detour. How fitting. You insisted on helping me but I refused it. I didn't need your help anymore. At least, that's what I was trying to prove. I am stubborn. I am independent. I was...am lost. But I found my way because after so many turns and flips and miles everyone eventually finds a way to get there. We walked into the garden in a stony silence. You hopped onto the railing and I placed my arms on either side of you. The words slipped out "tell me why?" We fought. I pushed and you pulled away. We were caught in this endless game of give and delay. We left and more words slipped from my tongue "are you happier?" You said yes and my mind forgot to remind my heart that I am not affected by the storm.  So my heart was swept away and I wondered why you it was impossible for you to just try when yo

You opened the door and my breath hitched. My heart stuttered like nervous steps leading up to a hurdle.  This is just a hurdle. Just breathe. Just jump. Get over it. So I jumped and looked into those eyes tsunami eyes of yours. "I am not touched by the storm" is what my mind told my heart as it cried out that it was drowning. I spoke my first words and they came out clear and light like the weight of possibilities weren't dragging them under. "Don't be difficult, don't ask questions, and be nice about my driving." I shifted into gear and drove like I was just another girl and you were just another boy with your feet on my dash. We parked above the skyline and watched the artificial stars gleam at us. They blinked and shined proudly as if to say "we are the everlasting burning that fills this faulty Galaxy." At least they wouldn't burn out.  God this is the worst idea I've ever had, but if my coaches taught me anything it was that you r

The beginning is always the hardest part. I've typed the beginning of this too many times that I've realized I was never any good at beginnings. So I look to another to start this post like Dickens started his cherished classic, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

And when you've lost them... When they've slipped through your grasp which continued to tighten as they fell. People tell you "there are other fish in the sea."  And it's so hard not to look them in the eye and grasp them by the shoulders and shake them like your voice is shaking when you tell them, "Oh but he was my sea. He was my ocean. No fish can replace the ocean." And when he was the ocean he reached out to the moon as he inhaled with his tide but in same breath he exhaled and ran to sand. In the same moment he reached out to me he embraced the land, because his 70% can embrace her 30% but I can only pull him to me so far.  And a pull can only do so much, because even as I pull him to me he'll hesitate and pull away. Yet he has the audicty to tell me there was love in his delay.