Coughing

Choking

Infecting

Respecting

Upsetting

Forgetting

The bus was cold

I had a cold

Lungs wound tight as a drum,

I sat by myself trying to ignore the people mumbling around me about

how their latest relationship was sinking or

about how they can’t stop blinking because of the

breeze hitting their faces and

I.

Couldn’t.

Breathe.

I could feel the tops of my lungs getting sticky with

Gasoline, each breath fanning the flame

In and out.

Breathe.

In out.

Cough.

Ouch.

More, more.

My breathing got heavier as my cough

Got buried beneath the volume of the bus

Everyone laughing, toe-tapping to their

iTunes playlist, recounting memory after memory

Breeeathe.

Breathe.

My granddad Pete is 84

He is in the end stages of lung cancer

His chest cavity battle has been his world

For the past year, but

He grew up where there were eight

Other kids and if you ain’t dying,

You don’t need to complain and

There are mouths to feed

Coca-cola will fix everything

And

I realized I should suck it up

Breathing harder than ever,

My body was in another place

I felt pin pricks everywhere

My skin was alive.

I looked out the window and I saw

The constellations in a new way

I wondered how much longer granddad Pete

Would get to see them

And if he even looked anymore

I wondered if my grandmother

Was one of those stars now and which one and if I should

Recognize her

Sometimes I think she’s every falling star

Sometimes I feel like she’s so far away I can’t

Even see her glow but I know

She wouldn’t do that to me

One time- she said to me

Honey, black will pick up everything but a man

And it wasn’t until her funeral that I knew

What she meant.

Breathing harder, I was falling out of consciousness

Panicking, shaking, thinking, wondering

Reaching for air

Slow down.

She taught me this trick to slow down your breathing

She used to take a breath, slide ten pennies across

The table, one at a time

And then breathe out

I didn’t have a table and I had one dollar in my pocket

I used my fingers and the last ounce of

Sanity I had

I slowed down.

but my mind went form fast forward to slow-mo

And I didn’t want either

I wanted real life

With clear lungs and

Healthy granddad Petes

And grandmas who were still alive and

Breathe.

I look up at the galaxies and know

Grandma is just a lint star caught

On a black wool sky and

Granddad will get there soon

and so will I

And everything will be okay

Breathe out.

The clouds that once were pink

Have now gone gray

I heard your voice earlier

But you were gone

And I wasn’t

You abandoned me again

I forgive you but it doesn’t mean

I’m letting you back in

So

You want me

To quantify

How much

I love you and

How much

I miss you

So

I guess

I’d have to say

I miss you

10 times a day

sometimes less

often more

it depends on

who I see

where I am

what makes me

laugh and think

I wish

I wish

I wish

You could be here

The question remains

How much

How big

My love is for you

The answer is

More than I can count

More than I can understand

More than I

Wish to acknowledge

but You,

You shut off

You quiet down

Because reality is

A louder voice

Than you can

Handle and

I know that

But my dear

We have to

Scream

Over the fright

Fight the fear

That seems to

Silnce

Everything we have

–

–

–

10.9.17

i looked at you and asked

if this is this what it’s like

to get old

and you said yes

–

–

it’s a crisp mourning

chilled

jagged

seemingly never-ending

it actually feels

as if i am mourning

a death

the death of

something that

had gotten too weary to hold itself up

something with rips and tattered edges

some thing that needed to be

laid to rest

at the expense

of my heart

If i had to say goodbye

(which i did)

as a eulogy

it would probably sound

like

a thank you

thank you for holding me

in the way

only you can

for giving me dreams

even if they look different now

even if the future

I picked out

doesn’t fit me anymore

thank you

for letting me leave the drive-in

every time

thinking

thank God,

I found him.

even if i was wrong

even if i was too scared to ask

how you actually felt

thank you

for letting me experience

the purest joy

the fiercest love

and the biggest fear

of losing you

and although our parting

is difficult

I know I will be okay

the sun will shine

the grass will grow

and so will we

and even though

I want everything good

to come your way

saying good-bye to you

will continue to be

the hardest thing i ever did

Have you ever wanted to give everything you have to someone?

I’m talking, shirt off your back, smile off your face

the very time and place you learned love, and give it to them?

This person,

These forever people you want to give every laugh, every firework,

love note, and road trip to; your emotional will, I guess. They get it all.

Like, to Nina,

I would leave every giggle, every nighttime tea,

every sweet thought that might’ve gotten lost through translation,

I would leave an everlasting glow of your sweet sixteen, midnight sparklers that made you smile so big I thought your glasses would fall off.

I would leave you the most perfect parents

to tuck you in at night

have crazy dance parties with you

and hold onto you as tight as they can.

I would leave you (a) life outside of an orphanage.

To Sam, I would leave a million more days of camp because I know its your favorite place,

I’d leave you straight faces and jokes that take too long to tell,

every mathematical equation, “sleep well, tinker bell!”

“good night snow white”

“sleep good, robin hood”

that one summer when I knew I had come out of my shell

when I found myself at your window asking you to the prom and WELL

the main thing I’d leave is a thank you note for

every hug, and campfire, and piece of advice

Every praise to God for not getting head lice from the campers 3 summers in a row

Every inspiring word, (some unspoken),  and every broken smile that was flashed to

serve as a reminder that you’re still human.

And, to my Love,

I would leave every star,

would leave every squeal into my pillow,

every car ride home when I thanked God I’d finally found you.

a cup of coffee, the way I know you like it

our transcontinental laughs and our side-by-side tears

but only because they both belong to you.

I would leave you my secrets too

because you deserve them

because my memories are sun-dried and dying without you

and I’ve become this person who

finds remnants of strangers in her purse

wakes up with headaches and regrets

Usually in her own bed but not always

Sometimes stranded, with dry contact lenses

branded with hickeys and

wondering where the hell she is

I am not this person who

cries in yards at parties and shares her

bed with disinterested men

and I am so sorry

I don’t know where your love went

I’d leave her for you, if I could

I would leave you the language classes I never took

for the mother that would never look me in the eyes and say “welcome”

I’d leave you an apology

for every kiss that wasn’t planted in your garden, (pardon the metaphor)?

for every touch and sigh I lied to myself about wanting

For the arms that caught me that are still haunting me

I’m sorry

and I leave you these things not because I’m dying

but because we’re all dying if you really think about it and

not because I think you need them

but because I can’t need them

because it hurts me to need them

and I need you to take you fireworks and your green-glass eyes back because

you were my forever person but now I need to keep track of someone else