There are no words to fully express grief. 

I could write endlessly about my broken heart that just won’t heal and the fears I face alone in the dark or the carefree look he wore when he said goodbye, but no writer could ever come close in describing what it feels like to receive the gut wrenching news of death. No metaphor or imagery could brighten a poem written about a topic so unbearably dark 

It’s too much 

Even for me

However, I’ve never been one to refuse an opportunity to scribble down my emotions and I am determined to finish with a sense of peace in my soul.  

There’s an ache in my bones this morning as I write. 

I am not entirely relieved of disbelief, in fact I feel incoherent as I read your name with the letters D-E-A-D next to it. 

It’s strange, last week you were here and the week before that I caught a glimpse of you driving by. 

You had no idea where you’d be today. Nobody did. We lived in our own little daydream as you lay ill, sweating out prayers in your fever dream. 

Is it as glorious and beautiful as you hoped? 

And the pain you endured in this lifetime, is it gone now? 

I feel silly asking these questions

Because that’s the thing with death 

You never come back. 

No second chances, just the one shot. I hope you took every shot you had and lived to your fullest potential As for us, knowing you has been an honor to say the least.  Lastly, I'd like to acknowledge that a piece of "Literature" containing my thoughts and emotions doesn't come close to what you deserve. 

 

—Written for A.P.

       Rest Easy.