These scars won't heal. I have trails, life tracks written down my arms. With a stop sign spraypainted red and angry because I never really stopped. "Leo" was my first pet, when he died I was distraught, people look at my makeshift tattoo and think it was born of a first love broken heart. In a way it was, but of the animal kind not man, no man is worth bleeding for.
In five years, people will be at my funeral. I'll be in a whole different city, my dad will take me back but I won't be happy. My death will effect so many. I can't understand how people I haven't even met yet will be the ones most affected by my absence.
They won't know how I died, they will only know that I lived and seemed happy when I was crying inside. They will dub me the heart of hearts and someone will carry on my legacy... someone I have yet to meet. Thanks, whoever you are.
My mother will wear white, and people will wonder about her intentions, the priest will call me "sister E____" but I'm nothing more than a sister to the stars that never got their chance to shine... oh so that's what I think. I could be proven wrong...
I want them to know I won't be in that box that day at St Andrew's. So they can stop saying that the funeral "wasn't E____"; wasn't me.
A funeral isn't for the dead, it's for the living. Of course it wasn't me. The casket is a shell for the shells left of me, bury my body but not my soul.
I'm not there.
I'm training dog angels for Saturday's flyball competition up on the Rainbow Connection... I'm getting a winning lottery ticket [they all win here] to split my winnings with the 3rd-world of heaven -- the unchristened soul. I'll be an amazing mother to one of those babies one day, a precious burnt out star like me.
I was waiting for Dancer and Keegan to get here but then I found Leo and all was right with the world. Dance and Keegs, I miss you, your time will come. ♥
I died so I could live and the shell of me could perish...
For the shell was nothing but scars that wouldn't heal. Life tracks written down
my arms spraypainted red and angry because I never really stopped... Dad found me and the only time he's ever cried, my eyes were closed to pain
Join me as we travel together on the road called "Aging." I will be sharing my personal experiences with you and offer ideas on how we can better navigate the complex byways of our older years. Grief, healing, generations, ancestors, and more.
For a time, I perched myself on a flat rock, comparing my life with the Guyandotte River. Just as its tributaries replenish it daily, changing it in some small—sometimes great—degree, so have the day-to-day occurrences of life changed me. Like the ri
Join me as we travel together on the road called "Aging." I will be sharing my personal experiences with you and offer ideas on how we can better navigate the complex byways of our older years. Grief, healing, generations, ancestors, and more.
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