Apr 2018
you weren't doing well already. your skin was falling from your face in yellow-skinned sunken smiles and faint snores that used to roar as you napped. my tears were hidden behind my computer screen when i saw you lay down to rest. always scared it would turn worse.
and a year ago today, it did.
i was in biology and the boys in ihs when i got the text. i never expected it would be me. i never thought i would have the 'expected call' sort of life. it was the speed walk from biology that i remember. the people passing me who i had to ignore. the sob i tried to soften. the lump that made it impossible to smile or speak or recognize anything except for my siblings and the sun outside. of course it was sunny outside. of course nothing in this world led me to believe today could be a bad day.
and a year after that, it was the same.
i couldn't stop the tears from coming. back then i was emotional in different ways. the heart i never imagined to be broken i wore on my sleeve. the smile that dressed my face was sincere everytime i met eyes with a stranger. i was excited about things i didn't know, and my sadness was consistenly superficial. so the tears came quickly, easily, as if i was surprised by the news as i hid them behind our bronze suburban.
and a year ago today, i had been.
it was the uncertainty of the situation that had me breaking. it was the fact i had no knowledge of what was going to happen. it was the idea that the only moments we had had together had been paper thin hands holding mine and music that spoke to our souls at the twilight hour. i did not want to be there, as much as i felt i should. but the night time drive and frozen cookie dough calmed my tremoring hands.
and a year after that, they do the same.
a year ago today i lost some hope. i felt a dynamic shift in the way of our house. where eight o'clock pm the door would open with a flurry of excitement and dog nails scraping over our hardwood floors there was silence. a cold and sad emptiness to the home that had created the childish laughter stored in me.
and a year ago today, it is the same.
and a year ago today, it did.
i was in biology and the boys in ihs when i got the text. i never expected it would be me. i never thought i would have the 'expected call' sort of life. it was the speed walk from biology that i remember. the people passing me who i had to ignore. the sob i tried to soften. the lump that made it impossible to smile or speak or recognize anything except for my siblings and the sun outside. of course it was sunny outside. of course nothing in this world led me to believe today could be a bad day.
and a year after that, it was the same.
i couldn't stop the tears from coming. back then i was emotional in different ways. the heart i never imagined to be broken i wore on my sleeve. the smile that dressed my face was sincere everytime i met eyes with a stranger. i was excited about things i didn't know, and my sadness was consistenly superficial. so the tears came quickly, easily, as if i was surprised by the news as i hid them behind our bronze suburban.
and a year ago today, i had been.
it was the uncertainty of the situation that had me breaking. it was the fact i had no knowledge of what was going to happen. it was the idea that the only moments we had had together had been paper thin hands holding mine and music that spoke to our souls at the twilight hour. i did not want to be there, as much as i felt i should. but the night time drive and frozen cookie dough calmed my tremoring hands.
and a year after that, they do the same.
a year ago today i lost some hope. i felt a dynamic shift in the way of our house. where eight o'clock pm the door would open with a flurry of excitement and dog nails scraping over our hardwood floors there was silence. a cold and sad emptiness to the home that had created the childish laughter stored in me.
and a year ago today, it is the same.
as it was the day that they took him away, not forever just to stay.
