Hell

Remembering is hard.
Remembering helps me see Gods faithfulness through tragedy.
Remembering sensitizing me.
Remembering cultivates gratitude.
God help me with this balancing act of Pain and Joy

Busch Gardens Tampa May, 2012

Busch Gardens Tampa May, 2012


TWHS Rock

TWHS Rock


Choose a funeral home.
Breathe.
Write an obituary. What days?
Call dad.
Cremation?
Choose an urn.
Call doctor. Get sleeping pills.
Viewing first?
Pray.
What will he wear? Oh God no make it stop. This isn’t happening. I just bought him those shoes. No. Not for this. No God.
Pull weeds.
Crack jokes.
Self protect.
Photo boards.
Songs.
Where to have the funeral.
Breathe.
Call Nissan.
Paycheck arrived. Fuck. Already closed bank account online. Cry hard at Huntington. Hate seeing people. Write “deceased.”
Pamphlet. Pictures.
Visit dad.
Write down medicine consumption.
Too many questions. I don’t know what I want to eat, who I want here, if I want the blinds open. I don’t fucking know. Stop asking so much of me.
Cancel phone.
Delete from favorites? Fuck. Not now.
Call dentist. Oh God.
Call Fidelity.
Cancel auto insurance. Explain why. Fuck.
Candle light vigil. Can I handle it? I’ll decide just before it starts.
Can’t shave my legs. Too shaky. Call mom – need nair.
Can’t answer phone.
Want to let people know I’m grateful they’re reaching out. Can’t talk. Send an email?
Read the cards or wait?
Where do we want donations to go?
People saying stupid things.
Will I speak at funeral?
Who will do funeral?
Soccer game memorial.
Don’t throw away milk carton. Drey held it.
Smell his clothes. Breathe him in.
Pray.
How’s Fred?
Cobalt. Fuck.
Too many decisions.
It hurts bad.
It can’t be real.
Make it stop.
Let me die.

2 thoughts on “Hell

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