The springtime sun is blasphemous.
All of creation ought to hold our breath until you can painlessly and peacefully take your last.
The music is too lively.
Laughter feels like sacrilege.
But I know that would make you sad.
You would want us to dance.
You’d reach for the radio dial,
Give us the smile
That rarely wavering,
Almost unfaltering,
There’s nothing a prayer and a country tune can’t fix type grin.
You’ve always known how to put things in perspective.
Each moment is an opportunity.
There’s a two-step playing
In the key of heartbeat,
But we each have to choose.
I’ll buy a new pair of western boots, just for dancing, and for you.
Your thin, wafish beauty
Went head to head with every challenge you faced.
I’ve been known to lay down in a fight.
You don’t even bend when the rest of us break.
Just two or three words from you
Are a 20-ounce can of strength.
Your laughter is a two-liter bottle of faith.
Good and bad, spoonfuls of sugar and salt grains.
No one could hand you a lemon.
The world stands amazed sipping lemonade from a mason jar.
You rose to new challenges,
Earned new triumph everyday.
The only villain you couldn’t sweet-talk was disease.
The spirit is willing,
It’s the flesh that’s weak.
You taught us joy and vibrancy in all the small things.
Orange leader lines
And Sonic’s sweet tea,
Yellow post-it notes,
And perfect handwriting.
The world will lose some of its light when you leave.
I must give it back when I can,
Behave brightly,
Like you would.
We talk of bucket lists and make-a-wish
But preparation doesn’t preempt grief.
When you go, we will all hurt deeply.
A piece of the world as we know it will be gone.
We will always scratch at our phantom itch.
We can’t buy a new universe,
Snug and new at the seams.
The only thing we’ll be able to do with our hole is patch it.
So I’ll bring pink fabric and a sewing machine.
We’ll suture our wound to the best of our collective ability.
None of us are worried about you.
Ever after there’s only light, only pleasure, only peace.
Grief is for the living.
You can smile,
You’re allowed to be ready.
You absolutely deserve to be free.
But we’ll miss you, sweet girl.
Every breath we breathe…
almost31women:
I won’t be posting on tumblr for a while (I’ve probably already been pretty inactive). I’m finishing up my ministry class, and I really just want to focus on it.
Be back in two weeks!
That goes for this account too.
