Little feet sleepwalk on the hardwood floor between worlds creating a whisper of a wisp as they run. Childhood laughter hides in every corner haunting me. How I would die to see them again. How I would give my soul to see them whole.
If we expedite our dreams
Past the sorrow
We will never know strength
We will never gain heart
The door opened creaking on its hinges to nothingness on the other side.
A black void of silence.
Face to face with this lore that has haunted me since my mother disappeared, I swallowed back my fear prepared to take a step inside, but hands as twisted as shadows pulled me in.
To mend a broken heart after grief
Is to stitch it full of scars
Never beating the same
Never loving the same
But always hurting the same
When memories turn to shards
I missed the event I was planning on attending this last Thursday because we were at the visitation of a beloved family member who passed away this last Sunday due to Covid. To tell you Covid is scary is just yelling out into a loud screaming wind. These last few weeks were hell for us along with the nurses and doctors working on my 50 year old father-in-law’s case. The fear, confusion, and sadness are things that I wish no one had to experience in all of this.
This was my father-in-law, Patrick Michaels. He was unconditional love. He was an amazing grandpa, father, brother, cousin, and so many other titles that he always ended up rocking. We loved him dearly and he loved us so much that he fought for his kids and grandkids harder than many of the nurses had seen anyone fight up until his very last breath. Seeing him fight a battle that could not be won was just so devastating. I will honor him and love him forever, but wish that we could have done it while making many more memories.
I am blogging this to honor what a hero you were and always have been. You have raised some amazing children who you live on in. You have created a legacy. I don’t know how many ways you have saved your two sons and daughter spiritually, but I do know that it was enough to build them into the amazing people they are today. Just know that each of your grandkids and their kids will always have a piece of you. You will live on forever in all of our souls and even the ones after. Your love is a love that will stretch generations to come. And your heart is one we will miss the most.
Therapy doesn’t work like I thought it would. I don’t leave a session crestfallen, but broken, memories on the surface of my mind. But sometimes you need to rebreak something to heal it right. Sometimes the hardest part of healing is rewiring your brain to love yourself.
Every evening at a certain time the fates are delivered a prompt, and with that prompt, they make stories that determine our fate. Some stories are full of laughter, some sorrow, and some things that only the gods will laugh at.
I have a secret if you want it.
It may sound nice to have a soul that is filled with vanity. To love yourself the most of all.
Sounds like a happy existence.
But there are no awards for these selfish hearts in the afterlife.
Be a better ghost.
Thousands of windows
Beat white in the golden sun
Thrumming against the quakes
That erupted the city like clockwork
There, the colossal poleaxe
Threatening in the giant’s hand
Swung an arc 20 floors deep.
The city’s cries were silent in the giant’s ears
For all he heard was his rage
Only let yourself settle when you know you are for sure alone. You never know what is hidden in the dark and the in-between spaces. Yes, there are some things only a witch can see, but you can always trust your own shuddering breath.