Brooklyn curled up in your lap and my heart went through a beating and a paper shredder and a lawn mower wound it's way across repeatedly and then it was dragged across steamy summer asphalt.
I wish I had a father to curl up to.
It's early, too early. The birds haven't found the words for a song for but I think they've started to open their eyes. I'm alone in bed but grandma is pulling me to the kitchen. She's crying and I don't know why. In the kitchen grandpa's crying too and Simba looks scared.
"Your father is dead" (would have been much easier)
Why couldn't they just spell it out? They had to drag the tears from their eyes to their toes before we could pack our bags an finally go home. I get that they were grieving too, but I'm the one who slept alone with the truth.
I miss Disney Channel movie nights, falling asleep in your arms. I miss the karaoke battles, where you always knew more words. 11 years and you'd think I'd be strong, but it doesn't work like that cause
Death lives on.
"but I'm the one who slept alone with the truth."
ReplyDeleteBrooklyn: this sounds weird, but I thought of your dad at that moment as well, and I felt bad.
Simba: he would be proud.
Thank you for taking us everywhere in this post. From a classroom to the past to the present to the future.
Thank you for not being afraid.
This broke my heart (in a good way). Thanks for sharing this.
ReplyDeleteI have no words. You are so real. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThis is so powerful. It brought tears to my eyes... (not even joking)
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