11-20-2018, 06:16 AM
[align=center][div style="width:500px;text-align:justify;line-height:100%;"]i think i've healed. not entirely, of course, i don't think i'll ever be entirely healed, but that's okay. there are moments when it overcomes me, when it wins, but it's never for long anymore. i've put reigns on it, i've domesticated it; i've learned how to cope.
part of the reason i've been gone is because i relapsed. i was just getting stable again when my friend called me that night, four months ago. she told me he was gone. how could he be gone? my best friend. he was only eighteen. i was only seventeen. it didn't feel real. seeing him lay in that casket, scarred face caked with makeup, didn't feel real. his picture hangs above my bed. how could he be gone? he was just here.
death has been a constant factor in my life. from parents to distant family. i always thought i knew how it felt, i knew how to deal with it. nothing compared to the death of my best friend. nothing hit me so hard.
i think the hardest part of it was how. alone, violent, slow. it's everything anyone who fears death truly is afraid of. it's my own fear. he didn't deserve it.
i still visit him. i stop by his grave every monthly anniversary and replace my bouquet, tend to the necklace looped around the vase, replace his water-damaged photo with a new one. i talk to him for an hour, sitting on the ground. i watched as the soil went from loose to hardened, from dry to muddy in the rain, from dirt to grass. i watched the bugs crawl over it, and the men in the machines dig another just like his beside it. he's buried where his mom's grave was supposed to be- in the spot saved next to his dad. they haven't even changed the tombstone. no one expected this. this was not supposed to happen.
but he's with his dad. god, did he love his dad. i don't believe in god, but i believe in his god. the god he would always talk about and worshipped unfalteringly. he made me believe in his god, in his heaven, in his soul. i'll see him soon. i don't doubt that. we'll meet again, in a happier place. i'll meet his dad, i'll get to drive around with him again, i'll get to visit our creek with him again, i'll get to walk down the railroad tracks and across the abandoned bridge with him again.
i feel him watching over me, and i know he is safe now. he is in a place without pain or heartbreak, without the tears and the disaster. and i'll see him soon.
i think i've healed. not entirely of course.
part of the reason i've been gone is because i relapsed. i was just getting stable again when my friend called me that night, four months ago. she told me he was gone. how could he be gone? my best friend. he was only eighteen. i was only seventeen. it didn't feel real. seeing him lay in that casket, scarred face caked with makeup, didn't feel real. his picture hangs above my bed. how could he be gone? he was just here.
death has been a constant factor in my life. from parents to distant family. i always thought i knew how it felt, i knew how to deal with it. nothing compared to the death of my best friend. nothing hit me so hard.
i think the hardest part of it was how. alone, violent, slow. it's everything anyone who fears death truly is afraid of. it's my own fear. he didn't deserve it.
i still visit him. i stop by his grave every monthly anniversary and replace my bouquet, tend to the necklace looped around the vase, replace his water-damaged photo with a new one. i talk to him for an hour, sitting on the ground. i watched as the soil went from loose to hardened, from dry to muddy in the rain, from dirt to grass. i watched the bugs crawl over it, and the men in the machines dig another just like his beside it. he's buried where his mom's grave was supposed to be- in the spot saved next to his dad. they haven't even changed the tombstone. no one expected this. this was not supposed to happen.
but he's with his dad. god, did he love his dad. i don't believe in god, but i believe in his god. the god he would always talk about and worshipped unfalteringly. he made me believe in his god, in his heaven, in his soul. i'll see him soon. i don't doubt that. we'll meet again, in a happier place. i'll meet his dad, i'll get to drive around with him again, i'll get to visit our creek with him again, i'll get to walk down the railroad tracks and across the abandoned bridge with him again.
i feel him watching over me, and i know he is safe now. he is in a place without pain or heartbreak, without the tears and the disaster. and i'll see him soon.
i think i've healed. not entirely of course.