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this week i found out my grandfather was dying while i was buying adderall from a boy with an air mattress in his living room. i said “just one more,” to cope with the stress. to cope with the morning. my family says pray, pray, pray, for more days but i only ever kneeled on the pew with one eye open. i never learned to let faith manifest.
when i was 15 i never thought i’d make it to 20. but here i am, my heart not an ounce as heavy. while he lays in a Boston hospital bed with nowhere left to go, i am laying under the southern October sun, full of possibility.
so far, i’ve only cried for minutes until i forced my eyes shut. i’m scared because i don’t know if i feel numb or if it’s a sense of relief that he knows where he’s going. 88 years old with a wife who left you years behind- if what he believes is right, he’s going to Paradise. a legion in the sky with war buddies and a wife who never stops dancing. a wife who remembers his name again.
i can’t imagine loving someone so much. so much that you look forward to the dark for another chance. i can’t imagine going out cold and easy. but i’m 20 with a chemical heart beating beating beating at least until i feel the desert heat again.