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cristin-hPoems
You died on a Monday. Nobody likes Mondays. But this day was the first of the longest week there has ever been or will ever be. Days dragging their feet like my heart across the pavement. Please save your questions, comments, and complaints, I'm trying to wrap my head around dead dreams and saints Wondering how the faint cries echoing through my insides sound to strangers and soulmates. You died on a Tuesday. Such an unassuming day for departing Nothing happens on a Tuesday. Until her phone rang, We were parked outside of our favorite restaurant I heard the world flatline to the sound of traffic We stayed in the car. Now parked on the roof of patient parking, Though I had never felt less patient   wondering How the ******* sun can shine when you can't even breathe. I watched my mother cry until she wouldn't in front of you. we COULDN'T in front of you. I promised. But we did. You died on a Wednesday. A day like a life, only halfway through and it's forgotten itself.   Like I had forgotten the heaviest my heart has ever felt was the night I looked into my sisters eyes and spoke like doctors, Wore the words "there's nothing left to do" like they had ever even come close to answering the question WHY? Which was the only one she could get out WHY? They said he could have up to a year WHY? Or as little as a week. You died on a Thursday. The day so wrapped up in the promise of tomorrow, we can only ever think about yesterday. Throwback to any single moment before this day. Throwback to 5 days before watching the irony of a birthday cake in hospice While I wondered how many wishes it would take to keep you. Throwback to the moment that we were alone when you grabbed me by the collar, So tight and so close I could smell heaven on your breath, As you squeezed a plea into a whisper Get Me Out Of Here. I was silent. But I swear to god I was screaming at the top of my heart. And I am sorry every single day that I had no way to wheel, walk, or wish you out. You died on a Friday. I had never been further from TGIF-ing I was busy wondering why and begging for your breath back. You hadn't said a word in days, your eyelids hung heavy like sheets off an empty bed, but when mom would whisper our names into your ear I watched every ounce of strength you had stand shoulder to shoulder forcing your eyes open in bursts like the fourth of july finale we could hear from your bedroom. You were a god in each goodbye, While the blue drained from each your eyes for us to paint our days with. You died on a Saturday. I thought the weekend had a deathwish showing up like it belonged in our bereavement, like this week would ever end, like it hadn't heard the news. Every night was a silent struggle we couldn't stay, but wouldn't go. The night before we had collapsed into a pile on hard-backed chairs At the mercy of the nurses who didn't have the heart to make us go, or just enough to let us stay. I didn't sleep a wink that night, I was busy listening to the human hum of our family set to the slowing beep of your vitals and wondering, if the grass you'll lie under will know where it came from. But this night, this night there was a quiet compliance an air of understanding in our war-torn bodies besides, nothing happens after midnight. Until my phone rang. You died on a Sunday. You were holier than any day of the year. I don't know if you let go or if dying always feels like drowning. Drowning. Like I was in every drop of water your skin couldn't hold in anymore. Like my mother was in disbelief. Like my grandmother was in desperation. Like my sister was in sadness. Our family drowning And not one of us moving. You died every day that week, and you've died every day since. You died on her wedding day and at my graduation You die on your birthday and on every anniversary and every single day that we have to deal with an absence so great that it deafens. And all I can do is wonder, what the time difference is in heaven, and how many sleeps it will be before I see you again. I wonder if the angels recognized you. And how you hid your wings so well for so long. But mostly I wonder, if you wonder too.
0
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
You Died on a Monday
You died on a Monday. Nobody likes Mondays. But this day was the first of the longest week there has ever been or will ever be. Days dragging their feet like my heart across the pavement. Please save your questions, comments, and complaints, I'm trying to wrap my head around dead dreams and saints Wondering how the faint cries echoing through my insides sound to strangers and soulmates. You died on a Tuesday. Such an unassuming day for departing Nothing happens on a Tuesday. Until her phone rang, We were parked outside of our favorite restaurant I heard the world flatline to the sound of traffic We stayed in the car. Now parked on the roof of patient parking, Though I had never felt less patient   wondering How the ******* sun can shine when you can't even breathe. I watched my mother cry until she wouldn't in front of you. we COULDN'T in front of you. I promised. But we did. You died on a Wednesday. A day like a life, only halfway through and it's forgotten itself.   Like I had forgotten the heaviest my heart has ever felt was the night I looked into my sisters eyes and spoke like doctors, Wore the words "there's nothing left to do" like they had ever even come close to answering the question WHY? Which was the only one she could get out WHY? They said he could have up to a year WHY? Or as little as a week. You died on a Thursday. The day so wrapped up in the promise of tomorrow, we can only ever think about yesterday. Throwback to any single moment before this day. Throwback to 5 days before watching the irony of a birthday cake in hospice While I wondered how many wishes it would take to keep you. Throwback to the moment that we were alone when you grabbed me by the collar, So tight and so close I could smell heaven on your breath, As you squeezed a plea into a whisper Get Me Out Of Here. I was silent. But I swear to god I was screaming at the top of my heart. And I am sorry every single day that I had no way to wheel, walk, or wish you out. You died on a Friday. I had never been further from TGIF-ing I was busy wondering why and begging for your breath back. You hadn't said a word in days, your eyelids hung heavy like sheets off an empty bed, but when mom would whisper our names into your ear I watched every ounce of strength you had stand shoulder to shoulder forcing your eyes open in bursts like the fourth of july finale we could hear from your bedroom. You were a god in each goodbye, While the blue drained from each your eyes for us to paint our days with. You died on a Saturday. I thought the weekend had a deathwish showing up like it belonged in our bereavement, like this week would ever end, like it hadn't heard the news. Every night was a silent struggle we couldn't stay, but wouldn't go. The night before we had collapsed into a pile on hard-backed chairs At the mercy of the nurses who didn't have the heart to make us go, or just enough to let us stay. I didn't sleep a wink that night, I was busy listening to the human hum of our family set to the slowing beep of your vitals and wondering, if the grass you'll lie under will know where it came from. But this night, this night there was a quiet compliance an air of understanding in our war-torn bodies besides, nothing happens after midnight. Until my phone rang. You died on a Sunday. You were holier than any day of the year. I don't know if you let go or if dying always feels like drowning. Drowning. Like I was in every drop of water your skin couldn't hold in anymore. Like my mother was in disbelief. Like my grandmother was in desperation. Like my sister was in sadness. Our family drowning And not one of us moving. You died every day that week, and you've died every day since. You died on her wedding day and at my graduation You die on your birthday and on every anniversary and every single day that we have to deal with an absence so great that it deafens. And all I can do is wonder, what the time difference is in heaven, and how many sleeps it will be before I see you again. I wonder if the angels recognized you. And how you hid your wings so well for so long. But mostly I wonder, if you wonder too.
#love#go#father#loss#goodbye#let#grief#leaving#letting
cristin-h
Written by
cristin-h
Dominican
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
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