I thought I lost you because they buried you under six feet of soil. I remember standing there with my heels sinking into the ground and thinking about how you would have felt claustrophobic. I wanted to dig you up and pour my own life into you because the idea of going on without you felt like a real sad joke at a wake: nobody really laughs but everyone does their best to smile anyway.
I thought I lost you so I did worse things to myself than you would have been proud of. I think maybe I just wanted to feel something other than that dull ache, you know? It felt like maybe instead of a graveyard, they had torn a hole in my soul. You just weren't there anymore. You weren't there when the grades started slipping, you weren't there for the missed classes, you weren't there for friends who were more like bullies, you weren't there to stop me from taking that ninth tequila shot, you weren't there to hold my hair back, you weren't there to take me home on the nights I was too sad to party but too weak to say no, you weren't there with your familiar warmth and the curve of your smile.
You were just gone.
I didn't find you until two years later when a little girl fell down and her knee bled across her shin and she said, "Don't be sad, stuff like this happens." I didn't find you until I watched baby birds peck their way into this life. I didn't find you until I was sober and tired and ready to go home when I found a girl passed out on the sofa, too drunk to stand up. I got her showered and warmed up and back to her room and she looked at me and said, "I'm a stranger, why would you help me?" and I felt you right beside me for once in forever and I said, "Because I can."
We don't die, we pass on. We pass on.
Your smile lives in the sunrise and your heartbeat pounds in good music. If I rap against a guitar, I can hear the crack of your knuckles. You're the reason I am strong and kind and patient because you're the only one who taught me to be that way. You're in the grass and in the wind and every time I see something beautiful, I find you in it. I miss you more than poets could make sound pretty. But I'm gonna keep living so your story continues, no matter how bad the pain gets. I'm gonna pass this heart you gave me to every person I meet on the street. I'm gonna give them what you gave me. I'm gonna do my best to make them happy.
This is the closest I can give you to eternity.
You will always be here, six feet under the ground. I won't hear you say my name again. I won't hear your laugh again. And I'm scared. I'm scared that our memories will someday fade out of my mind and I just won't remember you anymore. What do I do then?
You'll always be six feet under the ground and I will be above it, living life without you. I imagined my life with you. Now I don't know what to do without you. I keep telling myself that if I imagine it long enough, you'll walk through the front door, hold your arms out and tell me that you're home. But I know that will never happen. I'll still find myself here day after day, sitting in front of your gravestone, scanning my eyes over your name that has been etched into they smooth grey surface for 3 years now.
Every living thing has a beginning, middle and end. The only thing that matters though, is what you do between the beginning and end. That is what will define you as a person once you are gone. Some people do nothing with their life. They simply let it pass by and eventually they fade out and no one remembers them. For others, they leave a mark on everything they touch. They become unforgettable. That's what she was to me. Unforgettable.
Death is a certainty that people refuse to speak about. Everyone is so quick to talk about the beauty of birth and life's adventures. The concept of death is hard to understand. I remember when I was only 10 years old, my grandfather passed away. Everyone was crying, except me. Why? Because I didn't understand what death was. What heaven was. Once I realized that death was permanent, I was destroyed. How would I survive knowing that I'd spend the rest of my life not seeing him again? How could I possibly be okay after that?
I remember my father used to tell me that time heals all pain. But the pain never stops, you just learn how to deal with it. At 10 years old, I thought my life was over because my grandfathers was. It wasn't until I was 14 that I realized my fathers words were nothing but the truth. It still hurt but not as much as it did at first. I thought that maybe time did heal all wounds. However, I was wrong.
It's been 3 years since she left and it hasn't gotten any easier. It still hurts like the first day. I still feel empty and broken. Time wasn't healing this wound.
You're probably wondering what and who I've been talking about.
As I said, everything in life has a beginning, middle and end.
I guess to understand the end, I have to take you back to the beginning.
