Tag: deephurt

A Letter to my Dead Grandfather.

What if you never left?

I saw a picture of you holding me as a baby.

But I’ve never felt that.

My mom says that you talked to me as a baby.

But I’ve never heard that.

You’d have more than a little to drink every night.

But I’ve never smelled that.

Word on the street is that whatever needed fixing, you were the man.

But I’ve never seen that.

If you ever cooked,

I’ve never tasted it.

You died. I have no memories. How can I feel a connection to you?

When we visited grandma eleven years ago, I found a box of pictures in the room I was supposed to be sleeping in. As everyone slept, I lined the pictures up on the carpet. Some were of you when you were younger. Some were of grandma. Some were of you two together. They were all in black and white.

I wished that you could reach out to me. Say something. Anything.

Let me know you are here. I wonder what kind of life you imagined for me.

Life is confusing and complicated.

When grandma died, your daughters stopped speaking to one another. I wonder if my aunt even knows about the box full of pictures. I wonder if they are collecting dust underneath the bed. I wish she would have sent half of them to me. I know that I would’ve stared at them for hours. I would’ve wondered if your smile was real. I would have searched for clues. I would’ve run my fingers down every picture.

Mom sometimes tells me stories about you that she remembers.

I know what it is like to love a person you’ve never met.

I know what it is like to miss a person you’ve never known.

Grandpa.

Where are you?

–S.

A Glass Castle.

Terrifying.

That’s the word that comes to mind when I think of telling someone my deepest insecurities. You’re basically giving someone the power to turn your heart into ground hamburger meat. Although terrifying, you feel such freedom having spoken those insecurities out loud – as if you have given them over to someone else to care of for a while.

You’re somehow lighter.

So, I tell you.

I tell you and I close my eyes really tight and no explosions go off around me. The world doesn’t collapse in on itself. Volcanoes don’t erupt. Streets don’t cave into sink holes.

Everything is still okay. You look at me the way you always have. Nothing seems to have changed.

I’ve lightened my load – unzipped the backpack on my back entitled ‘childhood traumas, bullshit I deem necessary to carry, and emotional baggage’ taken out a few items and handed them over to you.

Nothing seems to have changed, but really – everything has changed.

How could it not have changed?

Not only do you have the power to break my heart, but you have the power to break me.

But I trusted you with that power, A.

I really thought you would never use it. Never wield it against me.

But you do.

And if I could sum up in four words how it made me feel – I would say,

it

blew

me

away.

Into another universe. Completely obliterated me –

blew

me

the

fuck

away.

But if you wanted to know a more detailed explanation of how it devastated me –

I would tell you to imagine a glass castle.

A castle where everything is entirely made of glass.

Mirrors line the glass walls in every glass room.

The day you wielded my deepest insecurities against me like a sword,

all the glass and all the mirrors shattered at the same time.

I imagine you snapping your fingers once and the castle is in shards at my bloody feet.

–

It took me a long time to find the words to say how you hurt me, how you devastated me.

To this day, I still don’t understand why you picked up that sword.

Do you know that it is impossible to rebuild a glass castle from nothing but piles of glass shards?

You have no choice, but to build yourself back up, but stronger.

–

I don’t wish you great pain like the pain you have shown me. I simply wish you whatever the Universe feels you deserve in this life. Whether that is great pain or great joy – is none of my business.

–

You should at the very least prepare yourself for emotional sword-wielding monsters.

Because the Universe’s cousin – Karma, is a motherfucker.

–S.

I will miss my friend.

I was disappointed to find out that nothing had changed.

That within me there still lived this thing, something that always wanted to please you.

I hate that and that is the truth.

I can’t be your friend. I actually don’t want to be.

I would be –  in an ideal universe where my head could un-think what it thought about you and erase all of the memories.

I would be – in an ideal universe where my heart could un-feel what it felt for you.

I would be – in an ideal universe where my soul didn’t feel like it was supposed to be connected to yours forever.

That is what I will miss the most – my friend.

For most, well all situations, I usually say that I wouldn’t change anything about the way the events played out because of the experience and the lessons that I learned along with it.

But, I would undo this one.

I want you to know that I would undo it all to ensure that we could always be friends.

As with most things, my mind added fresh paint over the pictures of us, the memories of us, the fantasies of us, the daydreams of us.

My daydreams and fantasies creating the perfect encounters.

However, they never actually existed.

At least not in the way that I painted them to be.

In another life, maybe.

In this life, never.

–S.

I’m Sorry, S.

An overdue apology to myself.

S,

If I was only able to tell you one very last thing, I would simply tell you that I am sorry and I know that you would understand why. I’ve been so very wrong. I’ve spent my entire life putting you last in hopes of making others happy, and where did it get me? It got me here. I was going to write several different letters to various people, several different truths, but I just want to write to you. I want to put you first because I always put you last. From the very bottom of my heart and from the deepest part of my soul, I am so fucking sorry. I can only hope that you can forgive me and that I can repair all of the damaged pieces. I hope you still trust me with your heart and I promise to never fail you again. For twenty-seven years, I overlooked you, I deemed you as less than, someone unlovable, I let you disappear and fade into the background. What can I say, except I’m sorry for every minute that I let you believe that?

I think of the bump on your nose, your blackheads, your hairy face, your stomach rolls, your stretch marks, your bumps, your lumps, your curves, your scars, your acne, the red marks on your face, your chubby hands, your big wide feet, the dark spots between your legs where you chafed because your thighs rub together, your saggy breasts, your flat ass, all of the things that I tore apart in the mirror to make you believe you were less than. All of these things come together to make a breathtaking human being. They come together to make you.

I think of the times you walked, talked, laughed, and sang. I think of how you healed a broken wrist, cuts, wounds, and bruises. I think of how you take care of me – how you bathe me, you feed me, you put me to sleep. I think of how you see, hear, smell, touch, and taste the world. I think of how you make sure I breathe. I think of how you make sure blood and oxygen travel throughout my entire body. How you fight disease and infection. How you fire all of my neurons. How you power all of my organs. How your entire life basically revolves around protecting me. How you continued to love me when I tried to convince you that you were unlovable.

I think of the broken hearts you lived through from friends and lovers alike. How you love to make others laugh, how you love to inspire them to be their best selves. How you love hard. How you love true and honest despite the love given to you. How you never folded when others did. How you provide friendship unparalleled in others. I think of your kindness. Your intelligence. Your strength. Your work ethic. How protective you are about what you love. How you bounced back from failure. How you never tried to be too prideful about your successes.

You blow me away.

You always show up for me. Always. Even when I don’t show up for you. You’re my greatest friend, my first real love, my soul mate and the love of my life. The one person in this whole world, this whole universe, who really does know all of my secrets and the happenings in my head and still has the ability to love me despite everything I’ve ever done and said.

I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but I love you. I’m in love with you all that you are.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I would say it for every second of your life that you couldn’t feel it if it would change something up this point, but there are no take backs in this life. All you can do is try again, hope for the best, and do better in the future.

So, I promise to love you every day moving forward. I will show up for you. I will not fail you. My love will not waver. My love is stronger than all of the forces in this life that choose to fight against it. Nothing will vanquish it, not even death. Because wherever we go after this life, I will love you there too. I will love you after this lifetime, and the next. And the next. And the next. I will love you.

–S.

Drowning.

When love arrived:

Flowers grew in my heart.

Butterflies grew between my hips.

Diamonds floated in the ocean in my stomach.

A tree grew from my spine.

I never knew what it was like to feel a love, all mine.

Birds sang in my ears.

The aroma of roses permeated through my nostrils.

Bees left honey on my lips.

Sugar, sweet like your kiss.

When love left:

I slept with vultures in my bed,

I was the animal they circled thinking it was dead.

Butterflies turned into moths at my feet.

Bitter tastes replaced all of the sweet.

The flowers in my heart shriveled up and died.

The bees flew away.

The tree from my spine uprooted itself and fell.

I felt the pain mark its way down to every vertebrae.

The birds singing into my ears drowned with me in the ocean of emotions residing in my stomach.

They buried me six feet under,

Using my screams to replace the sounds of the thunder.

–S.