It’s not the questions. It’s the lack of answers. That’s where my angst comes from. It’s the process of questions leading to questions to just more questions. I can make the simplest question turn into a non answer. I’ve been asked yes or no questions that I can’t even answer without asking follow up questions. I’m told “it’s a simple yes or no.” Is it simple? Why does it have to be? Do you like pizza yes or no? From where? Sometimes. Why do you ask? Is there pizza here? Are you ordering pizza? If it has a good sauce, maybe? If I’m hungry enough. Is it homemade? My least favorite question is how are you? Who on earth can answer that? Do you mean in general? Or today? How many does it take to create a feeling of unresolve? Sometimes just one.
Why?
How?
What?
You know them. The w’s and h’s. The ones that are so simple to ask and write yet lead to no possible outcome for me.
Why?
Because it was his time. That’s how it works. You are here and then you are not.
But why?
I woke with my eyes swollen closed from crying. I can’t remember what fruit or even if it is fruit helps this. I believe it’s cucumber. Is cucumber a fruit? I’m a horticulturist I should know this? Yes it is, it has seeds. Why cucumber? Who has a cucumber laying around waiting for puffy eyes? Probably everyone but the ones that need them. Will carrots work? What about pickles? Or it might be tea bags? Do I make the tea first or just put tea bags on them? I don’t want to waste tea bags on my eyeballs. I don’t really like tea. Will coffee work? It could be neither. I did put eye drops in. Which I knew was going to just irritate them further. The bottle claims to cool and comfort the eyes. They feel like I tried to freeze them. Which is a fear of mine. That I will get frozen eyeballs from being in the cold. The eyelids are there to protect but I can’t walk with my eyes closed. I’ve tried. I also love the cold. I also know that my eyeballs won’t freeze.
Did I really think I would wake and it didn’t happen? It wasn’t a dream. I don’t have dreams like that. I have thoughts like that. You have died a million times in my mind over my life. I actually feel a little less, and more. A little burdened with the mémoires of your last big attempt to fill your lungs with air, your last moment when you had really just you to move on. That last moment when we all sat collectively encouraging you to go as if you were running a marathon. Like little cheer leaders. You breathed so big one last time. Like you were taking this last breath with you, in case you needed it. Yet I’m also lighter knowing you don’t hurt. Lighter knowing I don’t have to worry so much anymore. Lighter knowing you took that one big breath that I feel you needed to go. Your chest filled up and then it didn’t come out. I watched. It was 5:17. April 3,2020. I’m overwhelmed with grief? I’ve never gotten to properly grieve for someone on my own like this. I don’t reach out to others, really even with this type of place. I’m reaching way in. Making sure I’m ok with what I’m not ok with. It feels like shutting others out. Because it is. I require a ton of space under normal circumstances so right now I wish I was in space, with cucumbers. Or maybe all fruit just in case. And tea. And coffee so I can have it to drink while I write. But mostly the fruit. Oh, and a space suit and space ship. With trained Astronauts to retrieve me when I need less space in space.
That’s where she thinks you are. In space. That’s where the afterworld seems to be to a 6 year old mind. Or a 42 year old mind. We look up to the “heavens” but are told this great big feeling is all around and within us. Deep within us. Which is why I don’t look anywhere other than right here. I look up to the heavens because I’ve seen it enough to think that’s what we do. To believe you are floating on a cloud. Or to believe you landed on the moon. Or mars. See if the flag is still on the moon? She wants to know.
Dearest virus,
You didn’t get to him. You didn’t even make him afraid you would. He had so many other things to be afraid of besides something everyone wanted him to be. He got to die his own way. You didn’t take him. Even touch him. I am relieved you never touched him. Is it going to be so bad that somehow he knew it was his time, to protect himself, which would be protecting us from your nasty spike-y ball claws from infecting us. The ultimate sacrifice in the end. His way of saying keep safe. I’m good now. It’s ridiculous to think. But it’s also not. Then another side said. Did he go so he didn’t have to see so many suffer? What if it’s one of us? That’s also ridiculous. You don’t scare me either. Even if you do get to me. You also do scare me.
Maybe you are watching down? But for me you are watching from within: You are my inside out.
Aspenleaf 