Thursday, March 14, 1996
The most severe and devastating loss ever known.
The darkest stage lit by the most horrifying act.
A moment reflected in a flash, the reflection of a falling star, spiraled
out of control.
The most emotion expressed in a single moment.
The undeniable proof that life is cruel to those with a conscience, a soul,
a memory, a dream, or a heart.
The loneliest day for one of the cherished few.
The incident that proved love does not save.
The day that truth was the saddest thing of all.
The day I defined grief without a word.
The most action that gun will ever see.
The realization of what sadness truly is: its hold, its ties, and its
embrace, how it consumes, how it never goes away.
The very first "NO!" I screamed from my soul with all of its might.
The first "Please?" I will ever recall.
The effect so numbing I would always feel.
The day I should never have had to admit came to be.
The day that gave me cause to be bitter and cold.
The day that made me wish I had never closed my eyes.
The day I understood that we don't have forever.
The day that was without the slightest hint of hope.
The only action I have ever seen that was permanent.
The unchangeable day.
The day I began to bargain for the impossible, pleading to any god that
could hear.
The day a single second became important.
The day so broken time could never heal.
The time having passed without knowing the second could never be fixed.
The beginning of delirium I can not control.
The moment of a darkness complete save for the spark created by an action he
will never repeat.
The last thing he will be remembered for, the first thing on our minds.
The day that would forever make me remember the very last time I saw you.
The day that made an old man walk up to me, touch my face, and tell me that
I must have really loved you.
The day that made me wait for every new day to bring pain and loss.
The day that made me wish I had been a better person for you in the
beginning.
The day that forced me to understand how valuable every second of time
really is.
The day that words you said and lessons you taught me, once valued and
cherished, became the breeding ground for the hypocritical.
The grief that grows as it feeds on a mountain of beloved "firsts" stolen at
last, on the emptiness that once was a dream, and on a heart without.
It chews and savors each tasteless bite of dismay and disappear that refuse
to fade at all away.
The common defining moment in two lives spun out of control.
The day twenty-five years were wasted in a splitting second.
The day true faith became a passing fantasy and a nightmare replaced hope
with the understanding of how long Never will be.
The day one action finally let me understand a million others, the same
action that made me listen to what the words really meant.
The day I figured out what "The Different Stars" by W.S. Merwin was really
about, five years of misunderstanding a poem cured in one day.
The day that forces me to call your voicemail if I ever want to hear your
voice again.
The day that makes me leave you messages you will never get.
The day you would never call me back.
The day that made grieving a daily event.
The shot not given by a nurse to heal, not consisting of a single element
meant to heal, but a shot solid, fast, and grim.
The shot that went in at a forty-five degree angle between the hard and soft
palate, piercing the brainstem that held you together.
The gun that took two hours to clean by a confused and broken friend.
The action that made so many of us blame ourselves, made us take on the
feelings of responsibility you left behind.
The day I had to ask what I did wrong or what I should have done differently
that could have prevented this one day.
The day I knew what it was to be responsible for someone other than myself.
The explosion that sent a projectile on a never ending adventure, cutting
your life down in an instant while it still carves its way in an infinite
circle, surrounding me always.
The day that created no end to the tears I shed.
The only day you broke a promise to me.
The day that made me look at the faces and into the eyes of your three young
nieces who could not grasp the idea that you could not go on, that you were
so lost, so pained, and so far gone from them.
The day that made me understand exactly what selfish meant.
Still the same day I knew how much you did love me, how much it scared you
to feel, to be vulnerable like the rest of us.
The day I found out you were not Superman.
The day that will never let me forget the Supergirl shirt I wore.
The day my solace was fed to a fire, burnt by flames so hot, reducing it to
ashes that could have fit into a shoebox.
The day I understood that grief cannot be defined in a dictionary, that you
cannot begin to understand the magnitude of it until it is too late.
The day I understood why I had never understood before.
The day I was forced to believe in death.
The day you died.
Thursday, March 14, 1996.