Silence.
So anxious I can feel my heart thumping through my chest
Threatening to turn the lump in my throat
Into full blown tears to stain my face again.
Gentle breathing, in their own rhythms
Through the masks we wear these days.
The fridge kicks back on,
Cars drive by on the street below.
The window open, blinds pulled aside
Bright sunlight illuminating the room.
A welcome change from the usual darkness kept here.
Her Majesty, unsettled by visitors and so much change
Sunbathing in the pools of warmth, none the less.
The gentle rustle as fingers slowly flip through
His carefully curated record collection.
There's an almost palpable determination,
A desire to be productive and helpful.
Months of feeling powerless to stop fate
Resulting in guilt and over compensation,
Trying to reconcile the new truth we have to live.
Rather than address the real reason for today's task
And the reason for finally seeing old friends
Was because we lost such an important one.
It's easier to focus on "finding good homes" for his things
Then to acknowledge how and why his is empty now.
So many lives touched from the confines of this square;
Countless laughs, tears shed and pleasures shared.
Conversations about the monsters we worry we are,
Daydreams of the world we'd create for ourselves;
Discussions about the trips we'd take someday,
Recollections of the damage that brought us to that moment.
Collections of souvenirs from travels and adventures
To remind him of the friends he shared them with before.
Piece by piece, my sanctuary is carried away.
We divide the things that brought him joy or comfort,
To be loved by someone else
Who can love and appreciate the life it was part of first.
To become a part of their sanctuary and collections.
To break tension, we make jokes about his preparedness,
How it's almost like it was already organized for such a thing.
He's gone and even so,
He still thought of ways to be helpful.
What was once so predictable and reliable
Is now completely rearranged or empty.
Like his friends and their shared memories,
His memorabilia will be scattered all over the world.
Amongst the people who loved him most,
And those who were fortunate enough to be loved by him.
Tears pool in my eyes,
At moments it's hard to see through them
And it's jarring to see others so calm.
Internally we're all screaming, crying, yelling
Asking our higher powers why?
Regardless, we get no answer and so
We focus on duty and making progress.
Because acknowledging the injustice
Of having to continue to exist in a world without him in it,
As anything but okay...
Won't change a thing.
Panic rises in my chest as I realize,
Soon I will be in this place for the last time.
I'll be greeted by his scent as I walk through the door,
Wishing it was his voice instead.
I'll look out his living room window
And marvel at the neighborhood he shared, the culture he surrounded himself with
For the last time, too fucking soon.
Even before losing him like this,
He felt like water I had to hold in my hands carefully.
I did not want to lose a single drop and I did not think my hands capable.
Now, he has become like smoke.
Rose through my fingers no matter how tight my grasp
Until they were left empty.
Like the gaping hole in our hearts that we're each left to mend
And how our sanctuary will soon be too.
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