These two unfortunately go together and were written on the dates of title…
1 December 2005
A year and a half ago the pain began
Memorial Day made memorable
By a stroke to the sleeping.
The phone calls started,
Trips to the hospital too.
Over a few months the pain sparked anger.
Anger led to hatred and hatred had to be dealt with.
The hatred was calmed and replaced with
Dread.
Dread of the phone calls.
Dread of the never-ending hospital trips.
Dread of the pain that was constantly worse,
Is constantly worse.
A week ago the end was in sight.
Relief was within reach.
All dread, and the energy wasted on it,
Was transformed into
Hope.
Uncertain hope, but hope nonetheless.
Two days go the phone calls stopped.
Relief was close enough to taste.
The end of the never-ceasing pain was
Hours away.
Yesterday another trip to the hospital was made.
It lasted eight and a quarter hours.
The waiting was physically, emotionally,
And mentally draining.
Hope was clung to
And supernatural patience was felt.
Last night, at 5:15pm, hope and relief
Died.
The pain, dread, and anger came back;
Fueled by frustration, confusion, and disappointment.
The phone calls have started again.
The trips to the hospital are much more frequent.
Anger has faded,
But the pain and dread are stronger than ever.
The end is out of sight.
Today I wish:
That life was a dream and that I could wake up.
That pain and dread were nightmares
And never really felt.
That the phone would stop ringing,
And that hope would come back.
Today the pain isn’t over,
The dread isn’t gone.
The end is still out of sight.
But the end will come,
The pain will stop,
It has to.
15 December 2005
Two weeks ago the pain intensified
I thought things couldn’t get worse,
But they did.
Death to one unexpected
Threw me into confusion.
Pain and loneliness surrounded me
Ten days ago I walked into
A war zone.
Words of hatred flew back and forth in
That house of anger and sadness.
Comfort was desperately needed,
But I didn’t know how to express it!
Nine days ago was the funeral;
And the tension made it so hard
To breathe.
The pain was dealt with in opposite ways.
Some had uncontrollable weeping.
Others looked emotionless.
The feelings were bottled so tightly;
And true emotion was armored so carefully
That almost no comfort could be given.
I was allowed inside one person’s fortress.
The undertow of her grief was
Drowning me.
Exhausted,
Aching,
And drenched in my own endless tears,
All I could do was watch her cry for him,
Love him,
Talk to him,
And try desperately to rub some life back into him.
I couldn’t move; I was
Frozen.
I couldn’t help her.
All I could do was hurt, and watch her hurt.
It was a nauseating pain,
It still is.
Another person was allowed inside her fortress.
That person was able to do what I couldn’t.
That person held her,
Comforted her,
And told her that the one she lost was still alive in her heart.
That is was okay to cry for him,
Her brother,
Her best friend,
The one that she couldn’t wake up.
Three days ago we went our separate ways;
She went to school and I went home,
Supposedly to live normal lives again.
But I can’t get normal.
I can’t focus.
I can’t get rid of my aching pain.
Today I’m numb.
My mind is exhausted,
And when I close my eyes,
I see blood stains
On his bedroom floor.
The scars of suicide.
Constant reminders of that heart-wrenching pain
Felt throughout that war zone.
Today I’m tired.
Tired of hurting.
Tired of crying.
Tired of the pain that seems to only get
Worse.
Today I’m surviving.
I’ve made it through these last fourteen days.
I’ve lived through the pain,
Through the tears,
Through the heartache,
And through the clouds of depression that smother me every single day.
Today I can hope,
And today I can know that things will get better,
Because they have to.
I can’t imagine them getting worse.
Post it! (ha see what I did there?):
One Not Alone. 