A Lullaby for The Dead
@justaperson
Oh sweet little babe
Do not cry out
Oh sweet little babe
Do not shout
Your mother/father is here
There is nothing to fear
So do not weep
And peacefully sleep
I will protect you
From any threat
So fear not the darkness
And sleep well so that you may not hear the death bell
Togetherness
My faith in God is what usually keeps me strong in tough times, but what happens when this faith begins to wither away? When a loved one dies, it is the most cruel of pains to endure. For I have been left alive, yet must bear the pain of this loss for the rest of my life. What is the meaning of my existence now that I have lost whom is so dear to me? A single life lost is not but one casualty.
I tried at first to hold on to my faith, but as time wore on, I stopped attending church altogether. I felt less and less connected to God, and my faith seemed less important. If there really was a God would they permit this amount of suffering? Surely then, a God cannot exist.
That was my new reality.
Until...
My life began to change when I met her. Julia. She knew of loss like I did. Her words went deeper than "she's in a better place now." I felt a sense of newfound comfort in speaking to her that allowed me to open up about my hatred towards my existence and my need for more faith in my life. She became my best friend and my rock.
The universe has a weird way of bringing people together, and as we carried on in our friendship, I knew there was a reason. She would carry me when I couldn't carry myself. I would be her shoulder to cry on when no amount of tissues could be enough. There is no shame in getting help from others, and to be a source of strength for those who need guidance. We are not alone. We have each other. We do not need to remain lost in the crowd. Not everyone is willing to listen, but there is always someone. There is always a way.
It was Julia's powerful persuasion to accompany her to church that provided immeasurable healing. That, and time. Time, friendship, and faith began to heal the pain of grief.
Being listened to immediately shifted my perspective: from feeling invisible to visible, hopeless to hopeful, and from feeling down to uplifted. I set my mind to let faith back into my life. We went to church the following Sunday. Returning to an environment that I had been to many times suddenly felt unfamiliar to me, like it was new territory and I was trespassing. As we settled into the queues, I felt anxious. I thought that people might look at me and wonder what I was doing there. I thought they might know I had turned my back on God. That was my own fear talking. I saw a few familiar faces and this calmed me. They came to greet me and we had a quick chance to catch up before mass started. Coincidentally, the sermon that day was about togetherness.
From that day on, things started to look up. Whether it is in faith in God, or faith in friendship, faith comes before healing. It is the faith that life will get better. As I strive to understand what will make this world a better place, at this point in my experience, here’s where I stand: meeting, getting to know, and empowering others is always a good place to start. Communication is a gift that is often misused or not used at all. If I had not taken a leap of faith towards the unknown that day by sharing my pain, I may have remained stuck in my agony and Julia may have remained in hers. As communication evolves, so do we. It is how we choose to use our abilities to connect with those around us.
One conversation can change your entire life if you only allow it. No matter how hard it seems, inherently nothing can stay the same. Everything is temporary. It may get worse before it gets better, but things change. They always do.
Think of a song with no music
The pause is pregnant -
It lingers with the emotion of the words that were there.
It breathes
It sings
It moves.
When music fills that space, even the most beautiful music,
The pause no longer breathes, sings, or moves of it's own accord.
It is pushed and pulled into something else.
The pause without words, without music, leaves room for thought and reflection.
The friend without words, without cliches, leaves room for reality.
The friend who forgets their words at the door leaves room for something else to fill the pause. They allow the space to breathe, sing, and move the way it needs to.
That friend who leaves their words behind becomes the world, just as the space in a song becomes the emotion within it without even trying.
They embody the silence that now comes from the loved one, and become greater comfort than any words could possibly be.
The silence means more than the words.
Weakened Angel
My sister, dead three months on the 28th, is gone forever. She isn't coming back, no matter what I think or wish or scream at God that it isn't fair. Not fair for her that is, not me or us or even her myriad friends. It's not fair that she never got to go to Ireland, or Rome or Austria and Germany. It's not fair that she won't be able to visit thrift stores in search of some perfect oddity for the house. Not fair that she will never read any of the thousand books she collected for this special time when she would have time. None of it is fair for her. None of it. People try to help but no one can bear this burden unless they've been through it with you like my other sisters and I did. When I was in high school a classmate wrote a poem about those friends who "just stand by" and I still remember most of it. At times like this, I think that's what friends do if they can do nothing else. Sometimes just knowing someone is standing by should you need a good cry or a talking to, or just to stand in the background shadows like some weakened angel waiting to be called upon. Sometimes you don't have to say anything, write anything or do anything. You just stand by like that angel waiting...
Sukita
Sukita, a Spanish nickname for the golden-haired one,
For the pale one born in sunburn Ecuador,
For the one with fragile fingertips,
Able to encircle tiny wrists reaching out from a small frame.
Sukita, like sugar, que linda, que bella,
Mild-mannered, lips echoing soft words.
With a quietness like that, how could one expect
Such a loudness in the air, a vibration so strong,
Even her father who lived on the other side of the
Hemisphere felt the Earth shake at it’s core.
It was a loudness that erupted from the butterflies
Flaring and flopping in her stomach
And Sukita’s golden hair erupted into flames,
Dancing and careening for the man she fell in love with.
Is it a surprise to say they married?
And that Sukita’s small hands only worked for him,
Moved for him, fingertips dancing along the jawlines
Of his face and when he died, when he, depressed
From an accident that left his left leg paralyzed,
Jumped in front of the train, Sukita, she blamed herself.
Could it come as a surprise that Sukita,
Mi Tia, tan linda, tan bonita, martyred
For a pain my entire family could feel and I felt myself break
When she cried out “I have nothing to live for anymore,”
And I cried, “What about me?”
I stood by her door, coming in, going out, lived with her
In this moment where, in total darkness,
Her golden-haired aura died out,
Where her passion died out,
And I was left saying the sweet words from my mouth,
The sweet words she would always say
When she had him by her side.
When she moved out from her old apartment,
The one she slept in with her husband,
Accompanied by his presence, paralleled by his body,
I moved out from mine too and for months
I lived with her, a small bedroom and a living room,
But I was willing to sleep on the floor, if not on her bed,
Reminding her that she was blessed because we both knew we were.
Sukita just had demons in her now grey covered head .
They say fake it ’till you make it and I told my Tia,
Look those emotions in the eye instead, feel my hand as I clutch yours,
We can howl together you and I, I’m old enough to be
The reason why you don’t have to hide anymore.
Be strong because you love yourself, be weak because you trust me,
Your body will understand and find an in-between.
So we gossiped about the neighbor who only lived with her plants
And we decided to buy one too, geranio, used the boiled water
Of its leaves on our skin to smooth the stress lines forming;
Took turns making each other breakfast, watching old movies
On the Movies! Channel with Audrey Hepburn and
John Travolta and Rosanna Arquette, reminding us again and again
That things always happen for a reason.
“It’s my fault. I saw his death in my dreams, should have
Said something,” she would cry to me and I would
Just hold her ’cause saying he was a grown man and that
She couldn’t do anything for him,
Not for someone that was willing to die and leave her behind,
Those words would hurt her even more
So I abandoned them and instead told her to put some color
Back into her wardrobe of black and she did.
She added white and I saw with my own eyes,
How she became a Virgin again, curled up into her small frame,
And scared, suddenly, of all that was happening in New York City.
So we would go shopping and I would explain that she
Could become a citizen whenever she wanted to,
Assured her, her marriage had been long enough for
This country to consider her a part of its world,
Told her that I would go to back to Ecuador with her,
That we’d see more of the family she hadn’t for years
Because I knew that she needed more love,
More than what I could give.
We flew together, ate chusos together,
danced bachata and cumbia together.
With her family, and me too, 'cause
I am her sobrina que le quiero tanto.
We moved like the world would stop rotating if we didn’t,
Drank because we were giving
A toast to life. We were blessed to be together
And we shouted it to the air, glasses raised when
Sukita hadn’t taken a sip in a year and that’s when I noticed
My Tia wearing purple zapatillas and a chaqueta to match.
I saw color breathe life into her and I saw her breathe life into black;
If I squinted, her hair was sending small smoke signals to the sky,
A sign, a sign that even though my Tia wasn’t moving on,
She was once again, strong and that Sukita,
Soft-spoken and happy, calm and composed
Was coming back home to us,
Ready to stop her gaze from the heavens
To realize the family she still had on Earth.
@justaperson
My condolences
I know that losing your mother is hard. The pain won't completely go away, but it'll slowly go numb. She carried you in her womb, and gave you life. She was always there to kiss you goodnight, and wipe away those tears you cried. You loved her like no other, and now she's gone. You'll always have her near you, and she's always watching over you. When you least expect it, you'll start to remember the good times more. Every now and then you'll just randomly cry at the slightest thing that reminds you of her; like her favorite shirt, or the place she took you as a kid.
She will always be with you, even now after death. Losing someone you love is difficult, but losing your mom is like no other pain.
I'm sorry for your loss, and I will always be a lending hand if you need someone to talk to.
goodbye
I miss you.
One day there, and the next in the sky.
You were my everything,
You are my everything.
It hurts to know you're gone,
And I can't do anything about it,
But it makes me glad to know that you're safe.
The little things that remind me of you
Seem to be seen a lot more now.
The colorful butterflies that float by my window,
And the bright flowers that sway in the wind.
Your smile is revealed in the weirdest places.
Your friendliness is seen through the meanest people.
Your touch is felt in the deepest books.
Loneliness supersedes most of the time,
But pictures of your smile help me to cope.
I miss you and I love you,
Mommy,
Goodbye.
Always
It's when
I pretend
I'm you
I'm hurt
I'm broken
And I just need you
To be there
To pretend to be me
To help me
Remind me of
All the good times
That she'll be there
Just not physically
Do things to
Help me take my
Mind off it all
It hurts the worst when
I think about her
And know she won't be there
Instead of having those thoughts
On the back burner
Slowly simmering,
But it's able to be endured
I just need you
To empathize
With me
Let me cry
Let me yell
Let me collapse
But always,
Always,
Pick me back up