By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top
I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
'Cause, I built a home
For you
For me
Until it disappeared
From me
From you
And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust
. . . . . . . . . .
"she went to the ocean and jumped in the waves and prayed the darkness would take her away she gasped for air that wasn't there and let the sea consume her"
My father used to tell me it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, and for the longest time, I believed the saying.
No, I lived it. Everywhere I went I loved something, even if it was only my paycheck, or only my elderly neighbor's dog. But then I lost the thing I loved the most.
Her name was Rose. She was 1,629 hours younger than me, she checked. We met at the sports store on campus. She was a mountain climber, loved the adrenaline, the feel of only having yourself and a few miniscule tools to keep you alive. She was quite a character if you hadn't guessed, but it made her beautiful.
And I would have given anything for her. Anything.
We used to lay on the East lawn and look at the stars, talking about the names of our future children and those of our past lovers. On cloudy nights we would roam around campus with flashlights, sneaking up on insomniacs and scare the wits out of them. And on the occasional night of the Winter of '12, it would snow, and we'd find ourselves bundled up and outside, chucking snowballs at each other, passerbys, and even up into the sky, dreaming maybe they'd find something better for themselves or land on a mountain far away.
I loved her, when we were outside, when we were snuggled up in her bed, when we were in the cafeteria, when we were in lectures, everywhere. I loved her, and I'll love her forever.
Some nights it eats me alive wondering what could've been. Would we have grown old together? Had a daughter named Amanda and a son named James? Had 6 grandchildren romping around the house? I fall asleep, thinking of Rose, thinking of questions that will never be answered.
It was in the middle of January, she wanted to start off the new year with a feat to top off all her prior ones: Mt. Whitney. And who was I to stop her? She loved climbing, and better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, right?
Only, I don't know anymore.
I talked to her a couple hours before I got a message for me at the dorms. They didn't have my personal number and this was their only choice. It was three in the morning and the 3rd floor's phone was ringing wildly. I heard groans and doors open and then I heard a knock.
Shannon, a good friend of mine, stood on the other side, a look on his face I could only dread the cause of.
His voice was a whisper, hushed and broken, "The phone's for you, Kev."
So I stumbled out of my room, finding faces in every doorway watching me as I walked for the phone, and all I could wonder in the moment was what kind of an idiot puts a working phone in a dorm.
The other line was static, but there were voices, ones that told me that Rose hadn't done her 12 hour check in and they would wait a little longer before sending in a rescue team.
They made it sound normal, like it happened everyday, but who was I not to be worried?
I left the phone hanging by only it's cord and stumbled back to my room, falling into a deep sleep before I could allow my mind to wander.
That afternoon I missed my classes and chose to stay in my bed. Word had already gotten around, people were already texting their sincerest apologies. It was one of the worst days of my life.
Later that night, the Mt. Whitney station called again, this time saying they sent out the rescue team but had no information on Rose's location as of yet.
And the calls continued like that, day after day.
After a week and a half, they gave up. Said it was too dangerous for their team.
Some nights, I wonder what could've been. This is one of those nights.
It's June 30th, 2013, Rose's birthday. It's been 3,816 hours since I talked to her last, I checked.
I'm still thinking about it: "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Maybe some day, it'll feel true for me. Maybe some day, I'll understand.
And until then I have the East lawn, I have the hours, I have the snow, and I still have that sports store on campus.
Rest in Neverland, Rose. Don't ever lose your way home and don't ever lose that strength.
