Last Hug
You never really think about it. Death, that is. You never notice how quickly it can come and take someone and you never notice who it's marked until they're gone.
When I hugged you that morning, that bright Saturday morning, I didn't think about it being the last time I would hug you. I've always hugged you goodbye. I hugged you goobye when you went to summer camp for the first time even though it was only a fourth of the mile up the road. I hugged you goobye when you went on your first camping trip in Virginia. I hugged you goodbye when you went to college. I hugged you goodbye when you headed back down to college after Christmas. I hugged you goobye at our older brother's graudation and then, for the last time, I hugged you goobye. You were going on a hunting trip to Georgia later that day, literally just hours after I left.
I never thought I would say goodbye to you or anyone in our family so soon. You had only been living for twenty years and in my mind, there was absoloutly no way you were going to die any time soon.
And then I hugged you goodbye for the last time and reality sunk in. No, reality didn't sink in. Sinking is a slow process in which is drips in, bit by bit, slowly bringing you to the realization. No, reality slapped my in the face, making me realize all at once that I would never get to hug you again. It punched me in the gut.
I still remember the way your hug felt. It was warm and safe, soothing and comforting. Promising. Protecting. It wasn't a long hug, the kind I like, but rather six seconds, quick but reassuring.
I hugged someone just a few days ago that was around the same build as you. Their hug was too tight and the others too loose. Not protective enough.Not warm enough, too tall or too short. Too built or too skinny. There is only one hug like yours and it's gone.
I wish I had realized I was hugging you for the last time. I would have hugged you for longer.
Grounded in a Different Reality
Memories fade into the steady rhythm of my run.
Up and down dusty mountain paths. Through fields. Past elk and hundreds of trees.
Near highways and houses that seem a world away, when they are really just a stone’s throw.
When I run, it’s a different place. A different reality. To me, more real than the place I found myself not a year ago.
Injured. Broken. Entire life turned upside down. Like a dream I have never woken from.
I used to run, climb and jump like it was nothing. For the sheer love of moving. Then suddenly, I couldn’t move at all. Suddenly, I had to work my way back from zero. Frist, a wobbly stand. Then, take a step. Then, stumble down the hall with a walker.
But that was then. Now, I can run, again.
There is still pain. Still healing. Still scars and memories that haunt me at night.
Running is not as easy as it once was. But I train hard, with dreams of my first full marathon.
Dreams of a triumphant comeback. Twice as far as I have ever gone, before.
I tell myself that’s what I run for.
But really, the training is an anchor. In a world that still seems a dream, it is familiar. Real. Visceral.
I run because it drowns out the memory of my own screams. Because it grounds me.
The smell of dusty earth, a reminder that world is still the same.
The elk glancing up at my presence, a reminder that I still exist.
The aching legs, a reminder that my body is still working, even if not as well as before.
I forget my worries, my sorrows, my interrupted career, and just run.
Again, and again. Farther and faster.
Until the day I stand at the starting line of a full marathon. Fall into the practiced rhythm as the buzzer sounds.
This time, my steps pound over asphalt. People and cars replace elk and trees.
But the run is still the same. Ignore the crowd. Ignore the noise. Keep the pace I practiced over a million footfalls.
Last year, I could barely stand. Now I’m here.
Not the fastest, not the slowest. Just another face in the crowd,
But I know what I overcame to get here, and that motivates me to keep going.
I push through hours of single-minded focus, to pass the finish line.
Victorious.
I came back from it all. Fought thorough all the pain and doubt to cross that line.
But as my exhaustion wears off and my breath steadies, I find I don’t feel any different.
What I imagined as a great comeback, fizzles into another name in the crowd.
I feel little elation or sense of victory.
I’d wanted to prove to myself that I was better. Back to what I used to be.
But I will never go back. Things will always be harder than they once were.
The marathon, full of people and cheering and electrolyte drinks, it ended up just being another run. Another moment with only myself and the steady beat.
Maybe I didn’t run for the marathon. For a comeback or recognition or a record of my time.
Maybe I ran just because I still could.
Maybe, that’s enough.
Tonight
We tried to be our fucking best,
but fucking best isn’t what it used to be.
So tonight I’ll let go of my worries,
and for once I’ll just go crazy.
Gulping in the midnight air,
we run until tears of sweat drip down our skin.
Away from the ones who know best,
and the dreams we once believed in.
Forget and just be with me now.
Let’s live like the world is ours for the taking.
Scream until you cry from despair,
and dance until the world is shaking.
No one gives a shit, why should we?
Take back everything you have given them.
What they don’t see is their own loss,
and turn that effort into mayhem.
Break the hands that hold you back,
and wrench free of your own expectations.
Before long the night will turn day;
so for now, give in to your temptations.
