Things in boxes, things in bags,
Richest clothes and filthy rags,
Everything that’s in my life
Saucepans, plates and butter knife,
Packaged up and taped to seal
All these things make leaving real.
If only I could pack away
All my thoughts throughout the day.
I was awakened by several large thumps coming from just outside my door. A quick glance at the clock told me how early it was, and groaning, I rolled over and covered my head with the pillow. It was Christmas break and I didn’t have to be up for a couple more hours. The thumps were growing louder, and then suddenly there was a huge crash. I got out of bed prepared to tell off my cousin for trying to get me up so early during the holidays. Upon opening my door, however, I got an unpleasant surprise. My dad and uncle were attempting to get my mother down the stairs. Forgetting my fatigue and momentary irritation with my cousin, I began to help them in whatever way I could. About ten minutes later, we had her lying down at the bottom of the stairs, her body made as comfortable as possibly with numerous pillows, her head and neck supported by my dad. After deciding that there was no way to get her to the car, my aunt called the ambulance to come and get her.
A few days ago I posted a song/poem I had been working on. Didn’t really say what it was about, but it reminded me of something I had written years ago for my English class, just several months after my mom died.
Dear God,
I have a message for my mother.
Can you tell her I love her?
Could you tell her I miss her?
Would you let her know we’re fine?
Tell her Daddy doesn’t cry so much anymore.
Tell her we’re almost all moved into our new house,
Tell her many people miss her.
I had never seen Grandpa cry.
I’ll never forget her lying on the floor as she died.
Tell her the funeral was tough,
Tell her her family was here.
Tell her I’m sorry I teased her about not reaching her 50th year.
My birthday party was fun,
Though there was one thing it lacked.
And hanging over Christmas was a shadow that was black.
These four months and six days have gone,
Running by in a flash,
But sometimes it seems like forever
As time creeps slowly past.
Tell her my guilt is gone,
Tell her I know it was wrong.
Tell her I’m sorry for the things that I’ve done,
The heartache I put her through,
If she were still here today, much of it I wouldn’t do.
Tell her I’ll see her someday,
Tell her I know that she’s proud,
And tell her again that I love her,
And I know that from the clouds
She’s watching me.
Amen.
“You only hurt the one you love,” said the boy who speaks in cliches, “maybe that is why she left me.”
He pulled the blanket in tighter and watched the rain blur the world outside, a glimmer of hope fluttering in his heart.
Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a box. She took life as it came and never thought to ask for more. When her friends invited her to parties she just smiled at them and said “maybe next time.” Everyone who met her thought she was uninteresting. But the girl who lived in a box was far from uninteresting. She was simply scared that if people took the time to get to know her, they would decide she was boring and then go away.
