Friend

One year. Ten months.

How was I able to make it to the point where I could walk on my own two feet again? Where I could think about life more than death. To where I could put unanswerable questions behind me and look forward to life.
So much has been because of you.

When I could see nothing but the darkness that engulfed my very soul, you reminded me that there was a beautiful life before all of this, and one after, filled with so much beauty, happiness, and kindness, because and in spite of this.
When everyone said that it was "time to move on," you stood by my side and told me to take all the time I needed. But when necessary, you gave me a gentle push here and there, reminding me to put one foot in front of the other.
As time moves forward, and everyone else forgets, as they always seem to do, you still know what's going on in the depths of my mind regardless of the silence. You know when I'm lost in a memory, or a regret. Or a simple thought of one long gone.
You refuse to let me live in fear, justified or not, and remind me of that fearless person I once was.

Friend,
You were always there, and I wish I could express what that has meant to me every day. My heart is so full from having first experienced the healing power of love, and I wouldn't have made it here today if it weren't for you.
This is for you,
I love you.

                                                               

                                                                               

June.

You've missed out on so much living. It still strikes me when I think about how long it's been since you last were here.

April 3, 2012

Don't we all have those days? Getting on with our days when they're suddenly interrupted, sometimes self-imposed, and we're instantly reminded of all that was lost, and all that could've been; an entire day is derailed. Another moment taken hostage by the past and its ghosts. Dwelling on what's forever lost is one of the most tragic flaws an individual can possess, yet, I still miss you daily and think about who you were supposed to be.

Life after death

I understand why people would love to believe in a heaven. That hope that there is an afterlife. That life has meaning. That things happen for a reason and that this isn't the end. It's comforting. But it isn't to me. Not having hope is not the same as being hopeless. Life is intrinsic and so precious all on its own. I've learned that again and again since you left. It matters simply because it exists, and because we exist. And that is something we cannot waste or ever forget.

But the idea of a heaven sounds nice sometimes, when I'd like to think you're off somewhere doing something else. That you're happy existing in a better place and that the grief we went through was almost worth it if it meant you were okay somewhere else. But I can't bring myself to believe in something that is ridiculous to me just so I can delude myself into thinking that you still exist, even if it's in a different form. This life is enough, and I remember that every day, in part for you, but mostly because of all the things this world has to offer.
It's been a year and a half...it's a new normal that I've finally started to get used to and thrive in. I try to take the best parts of you and make them a part of me. You were so fearless.
I still remember you daily, and I wonder who you'd be right now.

Words.

There's still oceans worth of you here, in the world you left behind. It's like a haunting. This is why I sometimes still feel stuck. 
I look at myself and I know and accept that I am here, and you are far gone from the one existence I've known my entire life. But sometimes there's a fear that ignites within me. As if you're never going to let me "fully recover". And other times there is comfort instead. Like there's a part of you still in this world. A song, a letter, a story. And it doesn't have to be with me, not anymore anyway, it just is..somewhere out there, and all is well again. It's probably a psychosomatic manifestation; a fear, and guilt on my behalf. And that's even worse. I want to put you in a very special place and remember everything about you, but I don't want this to be the one moment in my life that defines me. That keeps me from moving forward and makes me miss out on the good and the beautiful of this world. Self sabotaging was always something I could do exceptionally well.


You..this, needs to be put in its place. 

I need these words to work. To be what they need to be. To communicate my confusion and lack of direction at times. Because as of lately, it seems that I'm just running my mouth. I might've just run out of new ways to express what's going on inside of me. Maybe I'll come back when that changes.

I used to talk to anyone that would listen and write unedited thoughts out...self disclosure was second nature. As time continues to pass, I'm finding it harder to do this. I wanted to write here because I wanted to help myself and others along the way. This, I know, is a lifelong journey, but maybe I'm reaching a point where it's time to stop talking about all of it and just apply it as I go. Maybe then I will be able to put you where it is that you'll be for the rest of my life. 

You've written my story backwards. You've taken your chapter out of my book. Now you're just a prologue. A dedication.

For you.

Acute vs Chronic.

It's a physiological thing. 

But that's how it is. 

Things eventually get better. And so they have. But I'm entering this new stage where it's this dull and constant ache. Something I'm getting used to, you kind of forget that it's there sometimes. But I can't decide which one is worse. The acute pain, the kind that made each minute drag by. The one that was unbelievably intense I had no idea how I was going to survive it. Or this kind...the one I know I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I would like to think it will subside, that it will be something I will look back on years from now and see how much I learned and healed. That I am thriving...I already am, but that I will be able to shed so much of this skin. Things just seem to be taking longer than I thought

I used to feel every single minute of your absence; now, time is flying by so fast. This is the third time I haven't noticed the 6th of each month and that's kind of bizarre.

But one of the most amazing things I've come to learn about human beings is how resilient we are. As fragile as our bodies are in the grand scheme of things, our minds and cores can survive anything. It just takes a while. I knew this from before, but experiencing it first hand is nothing short of amazing. 

Wooden Heart

We’re all born to broken people on their most honest day of living 
and since that first breath... We’ll need grace that we’ve never given 
I've been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts 
and it's not only when these eyes are closed 
these lies are ropes that I tie down in my stomach, 
but they hold this ship together tossed like leaves in this weather 
and my dreams are sails that I point towards my true north, 
stretched thin over my rib bones, and pray that it gets better 
but it won’t won’t, at least I don’t believe it will... 
so I've built a wooden heart inside this iron ship, 
to sail these blood red seas and find your coasts. 
don’t let these waves wash away your hopes 
this war-ship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors 
pulling fist fulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviors 
but I know that we are all made out of shipwrecks, every single board 
washed and bound like crooked teeth on these rocky shores 
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief 
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach 
come on and sew us together, tattered rags stained forever 
we only have what we remember 

I am the barely living son of a woman and man who barely made it 
but we’re making it taped together on borrowed crutches and new starts 
we all have the same holes in our hearts... 
everything falls apart at the exact same time 
that it all comes together perfectly for the next step 
but my fear is this prison... that I keep locked below the main deck 
I keep a key under my pillow, it’s quiet and it’s hidden and my hopes are weapons that I’m still learning how to use right 
but they’re heavy and I’m awkward...always running out of fight 
so I’ve carved a wooden heart, put it in this sinking ship 
hoping it would help me float for just a few more weeks 
because I am made out of shipwrecks, every twisted beam 
lost and found like you and me scattered out on the sea 
so come on let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief 
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach 
come on and sew us together, just some tattered rags stained forever 
we only have what we remember 

My throat it still tastes like house fire and salt water 
I wear this tide like loose skin, rock me to sea 
if we hold on tight we’ll hold each other together 
and not just be some fools rushing to die in our sleep 
all these machines will rust I promise, but we'll still be electric 
shocking each other back to life 
Your hand in mine, my fingers in your veins connected 
our bones grown together inside 
our hands entwined, your fingers in my veins braided 
our spines grown stronger in time 
because our church is made out of shipwrecks 
from every hull these rocks have claimed 
but we pick ourselves up, and try and grow better through the change 
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief 
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach 
come on and sew us together, were just tattered rags stained forever 
we only have what we remember