Sunday, March 9, 2014

Five Months

It has been five months today, five months since I've gotten to speak to my brother David. 
Five months since I've become this new person, forever changed.

In many ways, I've become a much better person these last few months. 
I have purposely become more genuine, empathetic, introspective, and self-expressive. 
I am more conscientious and driven, and much less bothered by small matters of life. 

David's death has pushed me and challenged me in ways I would have never imagined. 

At times, I feel an incredible peace, and other times a longing so raw that I feel my heart may jump out of my chest. It is in these moments that I turn to David, touch my heart, and ask him to be with me. I ask him to spend those moments with me, no matter if I'm in the privacy of my home, or sitting in my desk at work. 

The other day, I had a wave of intense longing and these words began singing in my head. I typed them out in my phone, and when I got home I recorded myself singing them so I will remember the tune. 

Take me away 
to the big blue sky
over the moon
I'll be reunited with you

Take me away my brother
Take me away my friend

Take me away 
to the forest trees
under their leaves
I'll be reunited with you

Take me away my brother
Take me away my friend

Take me away
and let us be
together again
right where we should be

Imagination is an incredible gift, and one to appreciate in times of trial. 
I've used imagery a lot these past few months. I imagine hugging David and holding his hand. 

Sometimes I close my eyes and re-immerse myself in a memory. 
One I love in particular is one of my most recent memories with David, 
it is from the weekend that we visited him in Minneapolis. 
Our last night there, we enjoyed dinner and a bonfire with friends. 
I remember sitting across from David, 
gazing at each other's illuminated faces: laughing and smiling. 
Both of us were really happy to be there, in that moment, with each other. 

Tonight I feel sad that it's been five months. 
I miss David and wish I could take away the pain of this world. 
I do find comfort in knowing that the pain he felt so intensely, has been replaced with great peace.  
I'm thankful for the belief that David is with me, every day. 

Come take me away, my brother 
Take me away, my friend

Take me away my brother, 
Someday, lets be together again. 

1 comment:

  1. Your writing is beautiful. Finding the wonder in your life from behind the shadow of such pain is an inspiring gift to share.