A Book of Poems and Stories That I Will Never Publish

Heaven

Authors Note: I'm not a religious person but I wrote this after someone close to me took their own life and it made me feel better.

i dreamed of heaven the night you died. most of it was exactly how i imagined it would be. bright white clouds and soft edges. a warm and inviting atmosphere. beautiful angels and an elegant castle bathed in white and gold. but i didn't go to judgement, i didn't see the golden arches, and i never got to pass through the gate. i was already there, inside of the castle. and i was standing directly in front of God, looking into His kind, pure eyes.

i can't describe, or even really remember, how He looked. i just know that as soon as i saw Him, i broke down in tears. i felt ashamed, but certainly not judged. i can't accurately describe the feeling that came upon me when He spoke. He said "child, why do you come?" it brought such an intense calm upon me that i immediately stopped crying, and i felt as if the breath had been knocked out of me. at first i didn't understand the question, but then it suddenly clicked. you. i was here for you.

you were only sixteen when you were killed in a car crash. sixteen. years. old. you had just gotten your drivers license, and i'd never seen you so excited. it was a few days before your moms birthday, and you wanted to get her a really special gift. something that would bring her tears of absolute joy.

you always did have the biggest heart. you were always helping other people, never putting yourself first. it was always your mom or your sister or me. you were never selfish, not for a second. but that just makes it all the more unfair.

you had already picked up the gift and were on your way home. you stopped at a red light, and when it turned green, you went, just like you were taught. that's when a pickup truck suddenly started swerving through the intersection and right into your side of your car.

you were killed instantly. the other guy? that bastard was perfectly fine. a few broken and bruised bones, sure, but he made it out just fine. he made it out alive. that's more than you got to do.

i'll never forget the look on your mother's face and the sound of her screams when she got to the scene. i'd never seen someone so broken and lost. so empty.
it wasn't fair. none of it was fair. she knew it. i knew it. the paramedics knew it.

you were so kind, so brave, so smart. things like this can't just happen to good people. good people are supposed to get happy endings. and you were the very best of all the good people. you deserve the happiest ending. an ending seventy years from now, not when you're just starting to become who you are.

your little sister can't even look in the mirror without seeing your face. you're in her and you haunt her every day. she dyes her hair, starts wearing too much makeup, and gets contacts just to hide from all the pain. it's not your fault of course, and she would never blame you. it just hurts.

your distant family remembers you as all of your straight A's and marching band trophies.

your classmates remember you as the girl who could somehow always make them smile when they were the most broken.

your teachers remember you as the girl who taught all of your friends sign language so you could communicate with the lonely deaf girl who sat alone at recess.

your mother remembers you as her first love, the girl who cried every time you stepped on a dogs toes because you knew they couldn't understand your apologies.

your sister remembers you as her hero, the one who always made sure she was safe and warm when you were cold and scared.

i remember you as the girl who bought me new clothes when my parents were too poor to afford them. the girl who read books over and over again just to make sure she didn't miss anything. the girl who physically knocked out my abusive ex boyfriend (who hasn't even glanced at me since). the girl who taught my dyslexic brother to read in two weeks, despite his teachers trying for six months. the girl who once burst into tears at the fact that trees give us oxygen, therefore life, and nobody ever even stops to thank them. the girl who took the blade out of my hands after that strange man gave me too many alcoholic drinks and tried to kiss me. the girl who saved my life. the girl who never stopped giving.