Remember Me
On the eve of induction, I pause to remember. Not intentionally, even if it is always in the back of my head. I will life to continue though I'm acutely aware I have no control. I beg for movement though it sometimes hurts. It's never far away, yet I feel guilty being distracted from it, like if I stop thinking about the losses, I won't honor their memory.
It colors everything but still ends up having no bearing on how things will go.
Nothing replaces them. People ask if he has come yet, if we are excited. Of course we are, and yet we are also utterly terrified. The unknown has a way of doing that to you--smacking you upside the head when you think you're prepared and have it finally (mostly?) figured out. "Even now?" They ask. Yes, even now.
But hope is also here, tenuous as it may seem. I try not to grasp onto it too hard for fear of jinxing the situation, another weird semblance of control over the uncontrollable. A holdover from better days of confidence when I didn't know any better. I look forward to the future even if it lays in the shadowy unknown, but the past always lays still, unchanging except when perspective and new experience shifts it in my mind. Can't change what happened. Can't predict what will. Can only keep moving and reach for what's coming with open arms.
And hope. Hope though it will be hard. Hope though you have no idea how you'll get through. Hope though all that came before continues to break your heart. Hope though you don't know how.
And remember. Remember though we weren't able to actually meet. Remember I held you however briefly and still hold you in my heart. Remember me, as I remember you.
It colors everything but still ends up having no bearing on how things will go.
Nothing replaces them. People ask if he has come yet, if we are excited. Of course we are, and yet we are also utterly terrified. The unknown has a way of doing that to you--smacking you upside the head when you think you're prepared and have it finally (mostly?) figured out. "Even now?" They ask. Yes, even now.
But hope is also here, tenuous as it may seem. I try not to grasp onto it too hard for fear of jinxing the situation, another weird semblance of control over the uncontrollable. A holdover from better days of confidence when I didn't know any better. I look forward to the future even if it lays in the shadowy unknown, but the past always lays still, unchanging except when perspective and new experience shifts it in my mind. Can't change what happened. Can't predict what will. Can only keep moving and reach for what's coming with open arms.
And hope. Hope though it will be hard. Hope though you have no idea how you'll get through. Hope though all that came before continues to break your heart. Hope though you don't know how.
And remember. Remember though we weren't able to actually meet. Remember I held you however briefly and still hold you in my heart. Remember me, as I remember you.