how to save a life

elouise, 86.

elizabeth, 91.

roy, 95.

jenny, 19.

 

19.

 

there was an hour two years ago that god let my mind wrap itself around death, but that glimpse of eternity and life and death and love and loss and grief and joy and meaning has slowly faded. and i hold on to the fact that i know that hour existed, even though i can’t recreate it.  yet my mind is met with the same incongruities as before…why? what if?  WHY? how could you god? what if she didnt like that band? what if we never moved here? how can someone who is so alive in my memories be nothing but dust right now? how does the fabric of my lifeline exist when another lifeline that made up parts of mine doesn’t?  my mind maps out the times in my life where our paths crossed, where our sparks of life shared each other’s light for the same moments.  the memories of our jumping on the trampoline and of robert’s antics feel so real, like i could stop and shake her and tell her she only had 3 years left…that she would never marry or have kids or graduate college or…or…but then she disappears.

 

 

honey i know god is good so i know there’s gotta be a better place for you.  we miss you terribly and i feel guilty for living while you dont and i cant grasp that you’re gone and …. godspeed.  that’s all i can say.  godspeed my dear.