Once again, I will try.
Once again, I will try.
Warning for ableist language.
I can’t believe I abandoned NaPoWriMo so easily! Agreed, there was some emotional turmoil, but seriously? A month?!
Anyway, things are much better now. Oddly enough, they’ve been better for a while. About a month back, a close friend and I mutually decided to cut off all contact. While it was hard to acknowledge that someone I was supposed to know for the rest of my life would now be a stranger, I cannot bring myself to regret it. We stopped fitting into each other’s lives a long time ago. Right before the “divorce” (that’s what I’m calling it), I couldn’t even picture them in my life anymore.
They brought with them a darkness into my life that I am better off without (this isn’t to say that they were negative, rather, their presence had become toxic for me. And I imagine something similar must have happened on their side too). Of course, I am in no way innocent in this matter – in fact, I’m pretty sure that for them I am 100% the root of the problem. Anyway, there is nothing to be done either way.
The following poem is essentially a summary of what I’ve felt over the last month. It’s annoyingly ableist and I apologize for that. I like putting bookends to events and emotions whenever I can. Consider this a final sendoff to something that lasted 17 years and then disintegrated.
(Note: Oceans, a poem I posted previously was essentially the beginning of the end of our friendship. You may notice that one of the biggest things that motivated me to let things continue as they are was time. The 17 years that had already passed. I understand now that time past isn’t always a good enough motivation to continue things into the future.)
The next five poems will not be posted on the blog. The theme of these poems is very personal and they are based on certain events that occurred these last few days.
The url of the blog is also changing for the same reason.
The second poem today for the second prompt. This poem is about knowing people for so long that you forget to grow older together. Sometimes we need to stop and see where we lost each other, and where can we find each other again.
It was raining the night she died.
A part of me hopes that she was able to hear the pitter patter of the rain amidst the beeps and hums of the hospital. A bigger part of me hopes that she died knowing that she was loved and cared for.
I hope she died with dignity, because she wasn’t cremated with any.
I’ve never been one for the rituals and customs. Ever since i rejected religion they seem even more absurd. What I do understand is that death leaves behind a corpse that is meant to be treated with respect. The absence of a sound mind is not permission to gawk, to dress it in reds that will never be seen by those eyes, to smear color over faces and hands, to make them look like brides because they died married. Because it is a matter of pride that they died before their husbands.
That is not respect.
Laying her out for everyone to see when you know how conscious she was of the way she looked, especially after all those rounds of chemo. I knew her; she was my aunt and despite all the bad and the ugly that went down, I loved her. And she would have hated everything that happened.
What meaning to these customs hold anyway? What is gone is gone. If a soul is anything like energy, it has already dissipated. Waves and photons, traversing galaxies, the soul has left the building.
At least let her body leave in peace.
Respect who she was, the woman that lived with a broken body most of her life, who wanted to live so, so badly.
Don’t come and express your sympathy, don’t cry louder because someone else started crying. Don’t talk over and over about how she must be in a better place now. We are all hoping the same. if you really care, don’t take photos of her lying there; Go talk to my mother, who has to see her little sister’s motionless corpse be taken for cremation.
Talk to her husband who spend years trying to do the best and it wasn’t enough. Its never enough.
Talk to her children, who have to spend the rest of their lives without her. It doesn’t matter how old you are, you always need your mom.
Talk to me. Or better yet, just stay quiet.
At least let her lay in peace.
It was raining when they took her away, covered in flowers as dead as she. She lived in pain and chaos, I hope the afterlife treats her better.