the keys

You know that this old house will break me. 

this place we still live in 

and walk the halls 

’cause we’re not free. 

You know that this whole place is empty 

but still so full of us 

and we can’t stand 

to just let us be. 

You know we’re bound to find the keys someday 

and throw the doors out wide 

and go outside 

but we just can’t seem to find the time to walk away. 

I know that these old walls still haunt you 

and echo all the sounds 

down all the halls 

we walked through. 

You know I’m still stuck here 

I know you’re always near 

we know we need to leave 

and burn this place down to the ground and just start new. 

But man, we’re bound to find the keys someday 

and throw the doors out wide 

and then go outside 

and then think of some amazing way 

to say goodbye 

but we just can’t seem to find the time to walk away.

she still builds bridges

She builds these golden bridges 

just to try to get closer 

to more of the same 

and she paints all her days 

to look just like the others 

impatiently waiting to crave the tame. 

And she wants to want to sit and stop 

and she wants to be just fine 

while her heart is still made of wires 

that still spark and spatter and pop 

And sometimes she lights her whole world on fire 

just to burn down the orderly mess 

and sometimes she’ll sit much too close to the flames 

just to see if they hurt any less.

be my distraction

Be my distraction 

my your-will-be-done. 

Be my complication 

my confusion 

my ready-to-run. 

Be all of my dysfunction 

my every recreation 

be all of my commotion 

all my focus 

all my fun. 

Be mine to rearrange 

around my favorite interruption 

my everything-that’s-wrong-with-me. 

My only irritation.

treats

Your selfish treats 

drip down your teeth 

and into my blood stream 

And circle around 

and settle down 

and fill up all the in-betweens 

And I let you keep on giving me

handing me

feeding me 

poison and venom and fire 

And you kept on taking 

and faking 

and breaking 

and dragging me further from fine.

run

As soon as you see the sun 

you catch your breath. 

Don’t gather your things 

or wait for your head 

just look for the line of light 

feel for the warmth 

and run for your freedom, girl 

pick up and run. 

Watch for the clouds to break 

look for the dawn 

stop letting this storm inside 

drown out your song. 

Run for who you used to be

so far from where you’ve come 

Fight to get out this time, 

pick up and run. 

As soon as you feel the breeze kissing your cheeks 

suck up your courage 

get up on your feet. 

Get up and run from the heat at your back 

you’ve got so much to get to 

so much to get back. 

Run fast for the sunshine 

that’s waiting for you 

run from the dark 

that you’re holding onto. 

Get up and break free this time 

reach high for the sun 

fight to get out this time 

pick up and run.

Here's what happens

I am not afraid of things anymore. 

Things that used to spark the anxious what-if’s don’t even touch me now. I could jump from a plane, stand in a crowd of hundreds of people, climb a mountain, be all by myself, swim in the ocean, fall in love; face any of those things you guys used to tease me about being afraid of. 

I guess once you have felt the rush of adrenaline that comes from the realization that the worst possible thing has actually happened and can’t be undone – well nothing else really seems that intimidating. 

You would be proud of me – you weren’t afraid of anything, ever, and now – neither am I. I don’t hesitate to stand up for myself anymore. I want what makes me feel good and happy and loved, and I can’t wait anymore to get rid of the stuff that doesn’t – and I won’t get rid of the stuff that does just to make anyone else ‘ok’. 

Days of the week and month sneak up on me, and its hard not to feel like time is out to get me. Yesterday was the 19th – four months since the call that you were gone and not coming back. All day long on the 17th and 18th, I felt followed around by an urge to hurry; hurry to get to you, hurry to fix this, hurry to change something, hurry to not let the 19th happen. And then it did, again, and I felt overwhelmed, again, that I can’t change the outcome this month, either. Thursdays happen, Fridays happen. 

We rush around to go and have fun over the weekend, and then I’m seized with wondering why I didn’t try to call you that one Thursday night. Could I have changed this if I had just tried to find you that Friday morning? 

I can’t lie now. “How are you?” prompts me to say “I’m a mess” more often than “fine” unless I really feel fine. 

And I do feel fine sometimes. There are times when I’m comforted and held together by the idea that you are exactly where you wanted to be now. That you are safe and free and.. fine. 

We’ve all come together, but we’re all kind of.. broken. The whole ‘family’ of us – we all have become closer and are holding on to each other tighter than we ever have before – but its like there’s this invisible barrier now. None of us want to be the reason that another one of us falls apart again. 

At your service, your mom kept saying “Just don’t hug me deep. Only on the surface.” That’s what everything feels like now. It’s easier for me to fall apart in front of strangers than in front of one of my own people, because it just hurts too deep. 

I think about you every single day. Sometimes it is filled with grief, and sometimes it is with laughter, but every single day you are on my mind. 

More than anything, I wish that I could have had just a few more days or hours or minutes before this happened. And every time, it is for different reasons – sometimes so I could talk you out of this, sometimes so I could just tell you how much I love you, sometimes just to hear you laugh again – but it’s always the same wish; more time – more time – more time.

February

It’s funny how grief plays tricks tricks on you.

 

I’ll be moving along; doing the things. I have accepted that this overwhelming pain might hit me when I’m unprepared. I’ve made peace with crying in front of strangers and in public. I’ve learned, almost, how to recognize this new warning voice that comes out of me just before I fall apart. I can talk about him now without having to remind myself to breathe afterwards. And then all at once I catch myself thinking, has it been long enough yet? Is it over yet? Isn’t it time yet for them to explain how this is all has just been a terrible misunderstanding? 

And then a whole new side of this hurt unravels and I’m right back there in October, angry that someone has had the nerve to turn the pages of the calendar. Shocked that we’ve all started saying “he was” instead of “he is”. 

Every calendar I’ve ever owned has been full. All my babies birthdays, all my other babies birthdays, all the anniversaries of important milestones for each and every one of them. I am blessed to have so many dates to remember that I can’t remember them all. My photo albums are filled with their faces and their smiles during every road trip, every party, every random thing that happened when one of us had a camera. My heart is as full scrolling through hundreds of shots of us all together; Billy and Brady studying their army guy villages ; Bella’s pink dress and her Easter basket – full to the rim with eggs because her boys would never had let it not be; Mikey’s school picture the day after John shaved off his eyebrow.. 

And then one will catch me sideways, and I see that one smile of John’s that meant ‘Whaaat? You can’t actually be mad at me for this.. IT’S FUNNY!’ and before I can catch my breath, I think ‘When will he come back? How will we get any more pictures?’ and ‘didn’t he know that we don’t have enough pictures?’. 

It’s February and he’s still gone. It’s still real. I hadn’t accounted for that.