the words that remain wildewoman
there was no note; only 3 seconds of glowing gray light and your sister’s apology because i loved you. and me, in a confusing trail of denial and a non-existent word for the deepest sadness. there was an old palanca; spanning three long sheets of paper remaining unopened for over three years. all i remember from it are words-- many of them about dreams, and how far we’d be getting from here. there were birthday letters; one for every year since we’d first met with apologies for not being a good friend. they stopped coming three years ago, and all i can bear are my apologies for accepting your unsolicited sorry’s. there was my eulogy; a piece i wrote a year ago perhaps the last time i could ever write your name in paper. it’s made me realize that if i couldn’t write in grief, you probably couldn’t have written in your deepest sadness. there was no note; it’s been 3 years and i’m 21 now yet still, i look always and everywhere for your words. but i believe that even in tragedies where we feel we’ve lost the most, some things live forever. Lirip
41
