Have you ever been in a moment where you know that one day it’ll be a foggy memory, but you’ll still remember the lightness in your heart?
When you’re afraid of that sad nostalgic feeling that this moment will become in several years? And you hate to think of even being years and years separated from it?
Yeah… Those are the moments that still your heart for a minute and maybe they whisper a small grief or echo the shadow of an abounding joy and you make that little frown smile.
The good moments that keep your heart a little warm. Even if it’s a sad warm. They are the logs for the fire of life. Those are good moments.
What would happen when they split? Would this bond of these few months trickle away again like it had after high school? Would all of this beauty and joy leave and fade into the oblivion of years past? …It won’t, right?
Kira turned back around as she and E were headed back to her car. “You sure you don’t want to stay another night? I’ll let you take the bed.” She said, genuinely. She didn’t want their fabric falling apart again.
Laura smiled warmly, “You miss me already?”
“Well, yeah.” Kira looked kind of sad.
“Go on home. I’m too tired to try and settle down anywhere else tonight.”
“Okay.” Kira slightly frowned.
E put her arm around her, “Come on, I’m cold.” And then she called out to Laura, “Bye Laura, love you.”
“Love you, babe. Goodnight. Love you, Kira.”
“Goodnight.” The two called. “Love you!” Kira added, and Laura watched them walk in the dark back to Goldilocks, silhouetted by the yellow light of the house lantern, and she smiled nostalgically. She’d miss them, too. That was a trip she could never forget.
The headlights went on and she pulled her hand out of her pocket and waved. Their hands came out of either window to wave back and she grinned and then laughed. “Go on, goons!”
“Love you!!!” they both shouted and then waved again and Kira pulled out of the driveway and Laura watched her tail lights disappear into the black night. She went inside once the last of the red glow disappeared behind the last tree around a bend. It was quiet. It was already too quiet. She could still picture them laughing in the car. She smiled and then turned to head in after a moment.
She missed them already.
“A Firepit Kind of Night,” Kanda Land by Loveless (pp. 717-718)
If you are mourning a friend right now, my heart goes to yours. What a miserable thing to mourn; one who was so close to your heart, who gave you life and joy and comfort and strength and peace. How do you carry on with the loss of such a thing; such a rock?
I admire you, because I simply cannot. I have tried, but life always moves differently after the most special person you ever met is no longer a part of it.
Everything moves differently. The clouds do, the rain does, the tires of your car over the asphalt do. The sun rises differently and sets differently. You breathe differently, feel differently. There’s a lingering numbness. A constant sadness. As if you could burst into tears but you keep them in because it isn’t socially acceptable to cry in the middle of a good day or at a party or at anything other than a funeral.
And even then we feel embarassed to cry, do we not?
But no, there’s always a waterfall pouring tears down my heart into a pool of sadness that slowly suffocates me.
And how can you say it? How can you speak it aloud when no one else feels it? When they look at you and say, “Just be happy. Just forget.”
How can you when your sunshine is no longer with you?
How can you when grey clouds are the forecast for the rest of your life because the sun no longer hangs in your dark sky.
There’s no one to bring life or joy to it ever again the same way.
It’s a constant mourning–life is–after you lose someone who was the very most important to you.
It never stops being a rainy day. It never stops being a funeral parade. There’s always a constant slowness or a too-fast-ness. And you can never catch your breath anymore and so you drown. And now you only ever drown and you don’t remember what it’s like to breathe.
You don’t remember what the sun feels like or what the warmth felt like upon your skin. Eventually, you can’t even remember it. And then you mourn even more when that day comes and your sorrow becomes a stone–a headstone that lies on top of your heart.
I admire you. Because how do you go on?
Because I cannot. I simply cannot.
–Loveless
Popp!nTalk 