Agentleboyschapstick

 What is left when cancer takes a child? How can it be okay when your niece knows she is now dying… when the words include end of life care but that means days of her knowing and the destruction of her mother.  There are no words or comfort or reprieve.  How is it okay to wish for a quick passing when my sister is  begging and is buying more time.  I fear for her, us, me  How do I stop crying so randomly and in such deep ways. How can I hide something so deeply painful in hopes of not having to talk about it because it is insane and horrifically sad. 2 days until Christmas  I am worried my sister may not be able to exist past this  

Something about a hot tub in the dark forest alone.   I find it easier not to feel… but times like these there is nothing to do but to allow myself to weep, grieve, honour, hold and pray for a gentle release.  23 isn’t a number someone so sweet and brave should perish.  It is times like these I feel my life wasted. Where she never really had the chance to waste hers. 

In the dark days she surrounds me A beacon for a heart and abandoned ships A light that is consistent even in its flickering  Humming that lulls and holds parts yet to be unearthed  My creatures stir for her They flourish here A place to house the hallowed things one carefully hides away The cracks creak to the dance of us A sweet haunting Lovely in its imperfection

 I am trying to be brave and look back on the love story that has chipped my tooth and has left a constant taste of blood in my mouth.  A taste that is still oddly sweet but is lace with an ache and sadness that haunts and has paralyzed me.  I built a little cabin in the woods to protect, recover, hide, heal and lock away the loss and sadness I can’t run from.  I couldn’t until recently even look and the evidence of us. Every morsel persevered and untouched. Today I felt brave and decided I would try to be an investigator of the beauty and carnage that seeped into us. The story of us.  So far it is exquisitely beautiful, haunting, sweet, rough, thirsty, needed, true, romantic, lustful, kind, hopeful, sweet and wonderfully imperfect.  The persistent ache.  I wonder if my bravery will last and what clues I might find.

 And our fine lines I wish you could have seen me… believed in me. The tents that once held us and the sweet mysteries we were about to solve. I wish you could have opened the penalty box enough to feel loved by me… the way I deeply loved you daily and in every true and mad way.