it had been an interesting day; full of frustration and lack of productivity at work, faced with harsh realities and poor communication. staring down the barrel of a 12-hour workday coming up, i decided to get two new books at the library, make a dinner that had plenty of vegetables, do yoga, listen to cello sonatas, and finally, reclaim my bedroom floor.
i made it through the first three layers of clothes (i told you, it was a mess). and then i saw it.
the small pile, three shirts.
cumulus blue, feathers, soft grey.
given by her best friend to me,
fluttering shreds of ordinary objects
that felt anything but ordinary.
i picked up the grey one, soft with wear. the smell, the presence of her, washed over me. and all of a sudden i couldn't breathe.
every place i go reminds me of you
i don't want to remind me of you
i clutched the fabric to my chest with both hands, holding it so tightly my arms shook. hot tears streamed down my face. where are you where are you where are you, i asked. how are you not here. how are you not here anymore. it seemed so fucking stupid that this shirt could be here, but she wasn't. my eyes wandered to the raven cup candace had also passed on to me, now holding some of her makeup. i thought of the palette standing up in my makeup tray, the one her hands held, the one her eyes wore. i pulled on the necklace hanging against my chest, pulled on it until the clasp bit into the back of my neck.
all these things, derivatives of her, held concretely in my hands,
so full of meaning and so meaningless at the same time.
i don't know how to honor her best,
or honor the loss others are experiencing.
sometimes the best i can do is:
kneeling on the clean floor of a dark room
crying silently, gasping for air
asking the question, over and over
asking my questions into the shimmering silence.
No comments:
Post a Comment