I don't know why, but here goes...
Friends of mine that I spent most of the last five years with moved away in December. Their house (well, cabin) hasn't sold yet and it's in an out of the way location, so I popped by on Saturday just to check on things and well, I wept like a baby, grieving over the whole situation. But, I also managed to vent it out in writing. I started not to post it, but maybe if I do, it'll help me heal.
When I sit on the steps, I can still see him. Traveling up the driveway, looking at us as we cried. Now I sit on the steps and cry, missing even the times of sadness. I watch the forest as it wonders if their chance to reclaim this piece of property is upon them. I strain as I listen for the sounds of a banjo lightly strumming or wagging tails or even the soft flutters of pages turning in a book, only to be disappointed by my own pen strokes. Empty chairs sit at an empty table, waiting as I find myself waiting.
Swinging alone on a porch swing, I feel the loss wash over me as I look to the opposite and even emptier swing across from me. I hear the boards under my feet creak as I enter, once a welcome guest, now a mourner of the past. I look for signs of a celebration or even quiet relaxation but as I pass from room to room, I find only stark emptiness and feel a sense of abandonment. Part of me itches to scream, to be angry that it was so easy for it to happen this way and tears hit my cheeks as I choke on a sob.
I want to let go like you did, but as I look around, I'm surrounded by ghosts of the past. If I close my eyes, I can hear the sounds of happy laughter, cheers of celebration, moments of anger, of agony, and everything in between. I quickly open them to catch a glimpse, but they vanish quickly, scared to interrupt reality.
I cam hoping to grieve, maybe trying to find some way to shut this void that's been left, but now I leave with more sadness than before as the lonely images seal themselves in my memory.
It's not very good, but it didn't have to be. I just needed to word vomit and there we go.
When I sit on the steps, I can still see him. Traveling up the driveway, looking at us as we cried. Now I sit on the steps and cry, missing even the times of sadness. I watch the forest as it wonders if their chance to reclaim this piece of property is upon them. I strain as I listen for the sounds of a banjo lightly strumming or wagging tails or even the soft flutters of pages turning in a book, only to be disappointed by my own pen strokes. Empty chairs sit at an empty table, waiting as I find myself waiting.
Swinging alone on a porch swing, I feel the loss wash over me as I look to the opposite and even emptier swing across from me. I hear the boards under my feet creak as I enter, once a welcome guest, now a mourner of the past. I look for signs of a celebration or even quiet relaxation but as I pass from room to room, I find only stark emptiness and feel a sense of abandonment. Part of me itches to scream, to be angry that it was so easy for it to happen this way and tears hit my cheeks as I choke on a sob.
I want to let go like you did, but as I look around, I'm surrounded by ghosts of the past. If I close my eyes, I can hear the sounds of happy laughter, cheers of celebration, moments of anger, of agony, and everything in between. I quickly open them to catch a glimpse, but they vanish quickly, scared to interrupt reality.
I cam hoping to grieve, maybe trying to find some way to shut this void that's been left, but now I leave with more sadness than before as the lonely images seal themselves in my memory.
It's not very good, but it didn't have to be. I just needed to word vomit and there we go.