Are you sad? Looking to be? A non-exhaustive list for your listening… pleasure.
Moving on is like this: one day you forget the taste. The next, you forget the smell. Then the touch. Then the laugh. Then the smile. Then the jokes. Then the eyes, the hair, the hands, the feet. You forget the socks. You forget the fingers, the toes, the sex.
How long will I grieve on these set moments? There are the bursts of tears on random moments, but it’s gotten down to these two times a year when I grieve for real. On D-day, or Death Day as I call it, and on your birthday. You were always a year ahead of me, but I’m now older than you’ll ever be.
A person is not a prize. You can’t earn or win them by being good enough, fast enough, smart enough or special enough. You can’t keep them on the mantle to remind you of how good, fast, smart or special you were. They do not prove your worth.
Already the air around me feels different. If you are a secular adult and you want to know limbo, stay in New York City for Christmas.
“J, it’s that easy,” he says, as he dips his razor into the running water. The entire bathroom looks like it’s blushing. Even the sink was pink.
After you died I opened every window of the Advent calendar you insisted we savor day by day, just like your Nana taught you, and ate every single chocolate under each flap in one go. It was the best way I could think to tell you to screw yourself for leaving me here alone.
It was us against everything. Against the adults. The older kids. The younger kids. Against age. Against time. Against not having enough money and not being able to really work for it, but not really wanting to work. Always music and always loud. If we couldn’t change the landscape where we lived, we could change the way it sounded.
Sometimes I feel like wouldn’t Facebook be even better if you and I were the only ones on it, so that when it said I had seven notifications or nine or that I had two unread messages I could just be excited because it couldn’t be anyone but you.
There are bridges I have burned out of necessity. Yours was simply abandoned, left untended for years until weeds grew through it and the railing fell apart and it became something you might take a black-and-white picture of, but you could never cross again.