What, me worry?

Monday, May 30, 2005

Cemetary

I'm trying to decide if I want to go to the cemetary today. I hate going by myself, but I'm all alone here, tammy has to work, and all that. My parents go together. I think anyway. It's just this thing I do, and I really put it off at Christmas, I'm such a shit. But why you might ask would this be a deal? Well, my sister's birthday is this week. There are 8 of us in all, but one didn;t make it past 5 as I'm sure I've mentioned before. We happen to come up to her birthday this week. I have to work all day tomorrow or I would go. She'd be turning 17. My how time flies. I try not to think about it too much. I can't exactly recount all the details just out of the blue, but here is what I wrote after she died, the first "poem" I wrote about the event:

Happy Father's Day
Early in the morning
I have yet to rise
I hear car doors open and close
There are voices outside
People walking very fast
Judith comes running into her room
She climbs into her bed
Proceeds to cry.
I ask her what is wrong
She says I will find out when I get up
I am very confused
I decide to get up
I open the door to the hallway
It sits next to the front door
The front door opens and people enter
Firemen carrying a stretcher
They carry it onto the patio
I watch and see what Judith is crying about
Our sister's lifless body as they try to revive her
Her limp body being lifted onto the stretcher
They carry her away
Happy Father's Day.

It is Father's Day
They are taking her body away in an ambulence
My mother goes along
Dad is staying with us
He tells us as we rise
Where were we when she took her fatal swim
The extra sellp was not worth it
It is too late to worry about that
We all sit and wait
A policeman takes a statement from Dad
They look at all the conditions
They look to place blame
It is not our fault she could unlock doors
It is not our fault she rose early
(or was it?)
The phone soon rings
I pick it up
Mom says, "She's gone"
Dad picks up the other phone
As if he hopes there is still a chance
He needs to hear again because he can't believe
Realization sets in
He sobs
It is the most awful sound I have ever heard.

I call some friends
They do not believe me until they see the news
How can I joke about that
The funeral is Tuesday night
We have to go see the body first
Privately we say good-bye
She looks like a doll
She feels like a doll
A beautiful doll in a liitle white box
I can't believe they make them that small
All I can do now is wonder why
Even my brothers cry
Father Michael comes to pray with us
He brought holy water and sprinkles her
He gives her her final shower
Together we are a family
It seems for the very last time because she's not alive
We are at the funeral now
The church is packed
There is not a dry eye in the church
Everyone keeps telling me that everything will be alright
How can they know
They are all stupid
They just want to make me smile
Don't they know she was the only light in my life?
It has not been a Happy Father's Day
Jessica-1993

Ok, so there it is. And I'm crying now. Because no matter how many days you can go and be fine, when you really stop to think about it, she's really gone and always will be and it's not ok but you can get through. I can.

That's all for now.

2 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home