Brooklyn

Your carefully penned words. Harrowing to some. Consoling to others. Impactful to all.
Systematic, submissive, and sympathetic.
I frantically scour your blog, uncertain if reassurance and lament were ever meant to go hand in hand.
And I’m haunted.
 
When you speak, I revisit a time in my life that was filled with so much angst and uncertainty.
I’m reminded of those verses once prayed, oaths once pledged, and pledges once promised.
When I sense myself disrespecting the day, enormous amounts of soul-crushing guilt encompass me, I pray.
When you speak, I pause and listen. You have my undivided attention.
I cling to each word like it’s your last, knowing it very well could be.
 
Your carefully penned words. Distressing to some. Soothing to others. Impactful to all.
Expansive, edifying, and exhaustive.
I ardently construe each post, uncertain if solace and sorrow were ever meant to go hand in hand.
And I’m in awe.
 
And then you were gone.
Like ashes blown in a brisk November wind, your physical self forever disappeared from this world.
Death and mourning and crying and pain wiped away forever from your eyes.
 
Your carefully penned words. Theoretical to some. Therapeutic to others. Impactful to all.
Reverent, reflective, and responsive.
I vigorously explore your journal, wondering when reassurance and lament began to go hand in hand.
And I find comfort.
 
When you speak, I recall the pleas I once cried and the reassurances I foolishly demanded to hear.
I’m reminded that, in my weakest moments, my prayers continue to be answered in unique and unexplained ways.
Scattered in my scrawls and scribbles, I pray for something relatable that feels equally restorative and impactful.
When you speak, I pause and listen. You have my undivided attention.
I cling to each word like it’s your last, knowing it very well could be.
 
Your carefully penned words. Spine-tingling to some. Intoxicating to others. Impactful to all.
Glorifying, gratuitous, and gorgeous.
I ardently interpret each column, uncertain of when solace and sorrow began to go hand in hand.
And I find peace.
 
Like ashes blown in a brisk November wind, your physical self forever disappeared from this world.
Death and mourning and crying and pain wiped away forever from your eyes.
Thank you for allowing me to join you on your journey home.