Life.
It's still hard to think that, every time I drive by my Papa's house, he's not inside. That he'll never walk those halls again or sleep in his bed... that he'll never smoke another cigarette on the couch or watch an old western movie on the big screen. That he'll never pull on a white t-shirt and that old blue flannel again.I won't forget his smell. His smile. His contagious laugh, and the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned. I won't forget those mornings and nights and days on end that we spent at the reservoir or on the boat. I won't forget the feel of the morning air or the coolness of the water, smooth and seemingly endless against the horizon. I won't forget the feel of his hugs; how they made me feel safe, as if nothing in the world could go wrong. And I will never, ever forget that I had the opportunity to say goodbye... that I told him I loved him and the last words he said to me were "I love you, sis"
I wish more than anything that he could have stayed. That he could have been happy and free of pain here with us... that the goodbye, as special as it was, wouldn't have been needed. I am so lucky in so many ways but I still feel like a wreck. I still miss him and need him... I am so lost without him and I'm still trying to find my way. It's just so hard.
I replay those last words in my mind every day and imagine that I can feel his arms around me and feel the bristle of his unshaven face against my cheek. And in those sweet blissful moments of memory, I am home.
On Wednesday, January 5, 2011 at 10:28 AM
forgotten promises.
But waitCan't you feel that?
The shudder beneath your hand
the slow rise and fall
as she gasps for breath
struggling for life,
for solidarity
for answers
for peace.
Can you find no warmth in those eyes
upon which you used to gaze
with such intensity
such love?
And has your heart been reduced to such brittle dust
that your emotions will not stir with even the wind.
There is something left there
hidden almost as deep as the memories
you tried to forget.
And the soft cadence of your beating heart echos loudly in this silent room.
so many unspoken words looming in the air.
And I know you're unsure
too unsure to rip the bindings from your heart.
But you can put the light back in her eyes,
grasp those battered hands and slow down time.
She's not asking for the world.
On Tuesday, January 4, 2011 at 6:53 PM
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