The other day was a very cold, windy day where dark gray stormclouds seemed to hang a few feet off the ground. It was a very mellow day, and I only realized precisely why in the late afternoon. It reminded me of the day of the funeral of a friend of mine. I remembered the weather, the way emotion hung in the air as thick as the clouds above and as piercing as the icy breeze. I remembered the aftermath, when some dear friends of mine and I began to clown around in the pouring rain, living life passionately and vibrantly. I remembered, and then I went inside and wrote this.
Days like this.
Days where something seems to be missing.
Days where every breath comes with a hitch in my throat.
Days where there’s a gaping hole in the conversation, where the void has yet to be filled from where you used to be.
Days when the mourning is palpable in the air.
When the sky itself begins to softly weep, empathizing with those on the earth below; it’s great gray heart aching for those lost.
Days where all of the pride, all of the reputation and all of the walls we build up to divide each other collapse with a tremendous and terrible crash.
Days when even the coldest heart is melted and resets to human in the face of cruel and untimely death.
Days when the lazy breeze is laced with just enough ice to reach through jackets and remind the warmest body of its fragility.
Days when my soul bleeds ink from wounds half-healed.
Days when I suddenly realize that this all happened years ago…
Not so very long ago
I laughed until my stomach hurt
I cried until my ocean of tears ran dry
I prayed until my knees ached
I hugged until my arms had no more strength
Has it been so long?
Have I forgotten what it means to live?
Have I forgotten what it means to die?
Have I begun to break my red-carnation promise?
Have I forgotten my sunflower vow?
Have I forgotten the mountain view?
The view from your graveside was the most breathtaking sight I had ever seen. Beneath the old oak trees and overlooking the valley of trees, with Mount Rainer jutting up defiantly into the piercing blue sky. I wanted to weep at its beauty, to laugh at the irony. Instead, I prayed. And I was not ashamed.
My brother in Christ. My new friend. My happy memory. My lost opportunity. My failure. My moment not seized. My purple bandana.
My, oh my.
Days like these remind me of you.
Days like these remind me to live. To live neon. To wear purple. To run up the stairs and jump on couches and give spinning love hugs and laugh and cry and run until the sharp autumn air whistles through me teeth and I fall down in piles of leaves with the world spinning around me