Inspiration Thursday

by thecraftaholic

(note: photo by Rita Rivera)

A person never truly gets over the pain of losing someone. You may or may not know, that my brother passed away when I was sixteen years old. He and I shared the same father, very curly hair and brown eyes.

He was such a cool guy. I always looked up to him, even though his loud music annoyed me. My mother did a good job of keeping us apart, but he still had a special place in my heart. I love him. I miss him.

You know, he was the one person who understood me, who “got” me. You know?

I’m going to share a poem I wrote for him. I was thinking about how time passes, and over the years, you fear forgetfulness when mourning the loss of a loved one. You think, I just don’t want to forget the little things. So this poem is about the little things.

It’s called, “A Dirge On Forgetfulnesss”

 

I

think of you

eighteen years later, I

am almost haunted

by you

johnny

eighteen years later, I

remember the smell of your colonge down the stairs, you

always left a trail

and your

loud music, I

must confess, I

try to remember the little things

 

I wish I could show you my daughter, she

reminds me of you

just a bit

 

 

and johnny

I

wonder where you are

do you know

what life is about,

tel me the secrets that lay beyond the grave

tell the path to enlightment

tell me if there is a god in heaven

tell me Johnny

tell me

years later, I

remember your New Jersey accent, your

curly brown hair cut short, your

sad

eyes and

that tattoo on your arm, I

thought it made you look so cool…

 

Johnny

I write scores and scores of dirges for you,

so as to not forget

the little things

I don’t want to forget

how much I looked up to you, or

how cool I thought you were

I

don’t want to forget

that it rained that day that we buried you

that I wanted to be buried with you

 

So Johnny, these dirges I write for you

in hopes that you also

don’t forget about me

where ever

you may roam.

 

 

 

I wrote the things I did, because as a child, I would always think about my grandmother (who passed on when I was just about 5 or so), and think about how she must be sitting somewhere with all the secrets to life and spirituality. As a child, I marveled and wondered about life after death.

If you’re thinking about death today, or mourning the loss of someone, why not write about it in your journal? Draw, write, collage, and reexamine how it makes you feel.

Death has a funny way of bringing out feelings you never thought were there.

 

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The Craftaholic

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