Closure

I used to think when people said they needed closure it meant they wanted to be done with the thing in all its forms and walk away.  That isn’t it, though, is it.

Dannica wanted to be “planted with trees.”  Simply learning of this so close in time to her passing is a miracle.  I overheard her and her brother laughing about the video game noises they wanted to make when they died.  Such laughter, such silliness… I loved being a “fly on the wall” for those wonderful interactions.  So much love between my babies, these siblings, these soul mates.

No music in the world was more beautiful than the sound of those two laughing together!

As I look back over our lives, I can see now that her soul knew.  There were so many signs she would not be with us for long.  Things said, things done, not done.  Things not done well.

Each moment since Dannica’s passing has been surreal… as time moves forward it only feels more so.  I look around me, reflect upon my daily activities and interactions and once in a while, or several times a day, remember *that night*, that moment, the horror, the incredulous split… the separation of my own spirit from form which was absolutely necessary to keep me taking one breath after another, one step, another step, constantly reminding myself that none of this is real.  Were it up to my conscious self to go on, I’d be long gone.

 

 

L.O.S.T.

I must be an optimist.  Life just hits me in the head with a bat day after day, sometimes a day or so in between but then, WHAK! another day, another bat.  I try to maintain that attitude of gratitude.  “Thank you, God, so very much for that bat to the head.”  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  And I choose to do it again, day after day after day with that glimmer of hope that it might one day feel a little different another day.

Why do I try so hard?

Why do I feel I have to?

Who actually cares?

Why does it matter?

What difference does *any* of it make?

What if I didn’t?

Who cares if I eat Goldfish crackers for dinner?

I know you’re still with me, I know you haven’t really died.  So what is the point of this exercise in pretending you have?  Why do I have to continue eating Goldfish crackers as if you never left?  Why won’t you show yourself again and eat them with me?  Show me a goldfish…

I sit on our park bench alone with the ducks.  I adore the empty sight of it each time I drive by and crave the company of *anything* sincere.  Of course, you’re there.  You’re there as much as you’re anywhere and it’s comforting as much as it can be to an earthbound human being.  My human heart will simply never get it.

My human heart will simply always bleed.

…and when I die of a broken human heart, no one will be surprised.