It ended today
Over the last six weeks I have watched a dear friend, a college roomate, go from a bright smiling moving person to a shell. She experienced the warning all women get when they begin to take birth control: may cause blood clots. Sounds harmless, right? I've always thought, "blood clots - that can't really happen." But they did.
We buried Amber today and sent her off in a New Orleans style jazz funeral procession. We danced through a puddled street with umbrellas in hand to the sound of "Oh When the Saints." It was lively and engergetic but also very sad. At the back of my mind while all this went on was the idea that she will never be with me again.
It's a selfish, petty thought. Amber is with her brother in heaven and her parents and sister have buried two fifths of their family, yet all I can think about is my pain.
It is for this reason that I write. I write to cry. I write in lieu of crying because crying cannot express the pain that I feel. Crying can not express the pain her family feels. Crying not express the pain that the room full of 30 somethings felt today as we said goodbye. Really, nothing can. But this is my attempt.
Family is
brand new babies
born to lucky parents
who never think
"we will bury this child in 28 years"
or
"we will bury his sister in 33 years"
Family is
young active students
gathered around bubbly beers
who always know
"we will grow up together"
and
"we will raise our children together"
Family is
standing around
a six foot hole
realizing
what you've never dreamed is here
and
what you've thought will never be
Family is
living through
the worst possible moments
with
the baby who is a grown up
and still here
with
the students who have their own children
and still here
wishing...
wishing it was a dream.
We buried Amber today and sent her off in a New Orleans style jazz funeral procession. We danced through a puddled street with umbrellas in hand to the sound of "Oh When the Saints." It was lively and engergetic but also very sad. At the back of my mind while all this went on was the idea that she will never be with me again.
It's a selfish, petty thought. Amber is with her brother in heaven and her parents and sister have buried two fifths of their family, yet all I can think about is my pain.
It is for this reason that I write. I write to cry. I write in lieu of crying because crying cannot express the pain that I feel. Crying can not express the pain her family feels. Crying not express the pain that the room full of 30 somethings felt today as we said goodbye. Really, nothing can. But this is my attempt.
Family is
brand new babies
born to lucky parents
who never think
"we will bury this child in 28 years"
or
"we will bury his sister in 33 years"
Family is
young active students
gathered around bubbly beers
who always know
"we will grow up together"
and
"we will raise our children together"
Family is
standing around
a six foot hole
realizing
what you've never dreamed is here
and
what you've thought will never be
Family is
living through
the worst possible moments
with
the baby who is a grown up
and still here
with
the students who have their own children
and still here
wishing...
wishing it was a dream.
Comments