friday evening
we pull into your mama's yard
i see your pup
bounding out to meet us.
your mama is there and we meet in the tightest hug
the lump in the throat grows.
i scratch your pup's ears.
we are here.
to spend the weekend
with your people
and sort through your stuff
i still don't know
what to expect
out of this weekend.
in your mama's kitchen
she pulls out food for us.
then outside
under the texas stars
in our lawn chairs
we keep catching up.
i notice myself wanting to be numb
but i cant do that
you deserve to be recognized.
i want to love you
by being honest with this ache
we walk into your room
and one glance at the closet
hangs resemblance of you
those dresses, that cardigan...
your water bottle on the floor...
''is this real?'' your mama asks.
i shake my head
in the living room
we talk about you
and ruffle through the plastic tub
that holds your childhood.
the cast you had on when you were 4 months old
after the cut-off-the-extra-toe surgery you had.
the picture of you holding a golden retriever
and that pic won a reward because it was the cutest one.
the ribbons to prove it.
your baby book.
your young life.
i look into those eyes of blue
and see a girl who already had mystery,
that far off look
holds words that paper will never hold.
at night
i sit on your bed.
your Bible still on the nightstand.
I pick it up and read
underlined verses
and your scribbles in the margins.
your mama walks down the hall
and notices me sitting on your bed,
the same spot you always sat
she says.
i think it jerks at both our hearts.
it should be you sitting here,
saying goodnight to your sweet ma
not me.
tonight i'll do it for you.
''goodnight''
before sleep, i grab the cardigan out of the closet
and hold it close.
I don't want tomorrow to come
but tomorrow comes
and I reach for your Bible and open up to Psalms
your favorite chapter of the Bible.
I scan verses you marked.
and then this one pops out,
''may the gracious Spirit lead me forward on a firm footing.''
psalms 143:10.
well i needed those words.
thanks hun.
so. we face the day
ms shar and your mom and I group hug in the kitchen.
your ma points out where you would always
lean against the counter and sip your morning coffee.
i remind myself
just take this day one moment at a time.
shelly and her daughter nessa and londi
and yolanda and bri and kindalyn arrive
for the day.
we stand in the driveway and cry.
somehow this all feels a lil to real right now.
thanks for giving us all each other
but you need to be here
and perhaps you are, unseen by the human eye.
around the lunch table,
we enjoy delicious food and laughter
and stories...
the trip we took to ohio
with a dog, a horse, and a hamster
and getting lost in downtown Indianapolis,
with a horse trailer.
the time you killed my hamster.
so many stories that lead to more stories...
after lunch, its time.
we gather around the table
with throat lumps.
I offer to spread out your clothes on the table.
I bend down
open the big box
I scoop the clothes close
hoping to smell you
but the scent is gone.
tears.
how do we do this?
it feels awkward
to start sorting through your stuff,
to claim things of yours.
this is unnatural.
your waitressing apron.
straws in the pockets still.
on a receipt a scribbled thankyou from a customer.
a testimony.
you still dragged your exhausted body
to work thursday yet
and no human heart imagined
that by sunday night
you would be running to Jesus.
we sort through
socks, scrunchies, skirts,
dresses, hair clips, planner,
all things...
we pause.
and talk about your last conscious moments,
your last words,
your fear of sedation - and that hurts my heart
i just really hate it had to be like that for you...
but then they share about a moment of what they think was the time you got a glimpse of Heaven.
and we talk about how when people see a glimpse of Heaven they don't want to ever come back to earth, all their desire is for that place in the sky...
so once you saw that heavenly land waiting for you,
i imagine that's all you wanted then...
so its ok... i want you to go there then...
but oh, this world misses you
later on in the afternoon,
i pile my collection of your belongings
onto the bed
then crash out in a nap
because this gets exhausting.
I awake to much laughter from the kitchen.
your brother is here now
and the sarcasm and jokes and teasing and stories
are abundant.
and we eat supper altogether
and laugh uproariously.
its evening and sitting in the living room
with everyone
i notice how full my heart is
it's been a day of hard
crying hard
laughing hard
loving hard
knowing hard
accepting hard
and i quietly marvel how
when you press into grief
with a circle of other grieving souls
healing slowly happens.
we eat so many m&ms this day.
in the evening
most of the small crowd leaves for home.
we stand outside
and watch the texas sunset and talk about you more.
just so many memories flood the convo.
then i go in and the house is quiet.
i sit with your blue navajo blanket
and read through your heart scribbles.
and i think of the friendship you and I shared.
it was priceless.
thank you.
I call my mom and sit
on the couch you sat many a time talking
to your mom.
i don't want to ever take my loved ones for granted.
the next day
I make your bed
and fold your throw on the bed
and close your Bible on the nightstand
and stare at the picture frame.
how are you actually gone?
I spray your scent
on the denim dress you loved the best.
i will treasure this dress.
i pack up the back of my car
with a collection of your possessions.
fyi. your dog is a mess. he licks way to much. he is so wiggly.
but i like him anyways.
your mom n I drive to fort sumner together.
and we cry and discuss many things.
I wish you could have been there,
perhaps you heard every word.
she encouraged me to ''grieve forward''.
it comes from a book she's been reading.
i like that phrase.
it still just is a mystery
why God took you now
it seems to us earthly minds
that you still had so much to give
that your work was no way close to done...
your journals saturates your desire to live
an abundant, long life.
so many lists you scribbled down
of dreams and goals and wishes
and your concrete belief
God had the very best future all planned for you.
and He did I guess
and that meant taking you Home
at 23.
''her work was done.''
sometimes its so hard to believe the truth.
I just keep thinking of you in Heaven
and how we think this is the end for us,
but perhaps it's just the beginning for you...
maybe only now you are truly alive...
you are now living out your deepest desire -
to be as close as you possibly can to Jesus.
we arrive in fort sumner
the desert was your spot.
many a poem you wrote about this flat, dry land,
and the wind.
this land was enchanting to you.
we arrive at ron n keri's.
londi, your mom, your brother, ms shar, and i
are there for lunch.
we hysterically laugh.
eddie, your people are the best. i love them.
it's like this
no matter how hard things get
if we have laughter, we are okay.
the laughter does not dilute the hard, it just makes the hard manageable.
we have naps. then we head to your dad's.
on the grass, we sit by your grave.
we bring flowers.
we plan your tombstone.
then its time to take the jeep out
your brother, ms shar, londi and i pile in,
into that black rickety box.
jumping into that driver seat, excitement bursts in me.
this reminds me so much of unit days. this was our ride.
we start it up and it rumbles like always
and off we take, down these familiar roads to you
and the windows are open like always
shifting those gears and winding down the curves and bouncing through back roads
makes the smile uncontainable.
we arrive at the feed lot.
we hang out with your horses for awhile.
i think they sense the sadness in all us.
then we hop back in and go pick sage.
this jeep drives worse that it did 3 years ago but that's ok. i love this shaky, loud, metal clunk that has no AC and maybe smells a tad funny when you drive it for longer than 20 minutes
we drive down the main street. you have so many memories of this town. I remember things you told me about that gas station. and you were friends with the cashier in that lil grocery store.
supper is at ron and keri's again.
im so tired i will my eyes to stay open
finally i just go to bed.
in the morning,
we go out for breakfast where keri and londi work.
then we hug bye... and head out...
tears fall as we pass 'billy the kid' road
and leave this town...
into the desert we go,
headed back to arkansas
and we eat more m&ms.
♡
this trip made it real she is gone.
i did not know what to expect of this weekend and i didn't like not knowing what to expect. and its okay i didn't know. i just needed to go and face it.
it was healing and good and hard and bittersweet. i wouldn't change anything about it. it was what we all needed.
Comentarios