birthday candles

this poem was written at the end of july 2016, shortly after my dad's 59th birthday. at the time I didn't know that it really would be his last.

His hair is white and withering away
his wrinkles are quite defined
his muscle tone is fading
sometimes his voice shakes
and he cries a lot more than he used to

But he still smiles like he's building something.

Every word he speaks tells a story
always past and present tense
and I can't remember the last time I heard him utter the word "future"

Every statement he makes is a sermon;
he speaks less loudly but more boldly

And every time he says the words "thank you"
it feels like an introduction to goodbye

it's July 14th
So we gather around
singing the same old happy birthday song

And I start to count the candles

57, 58, 59...

59....

59...?

With no sign of 60 anywhere to be found.

The numbness I feel makes time slow down
and I listen to the words of the song
I look at him, smiling, happy
and I wonder what he's thinking

Is he wondering the same thing?
Does this birthday chorus not sound haunting?

A light-hearted song has never made me feel so hollow
A candle light has never looked so dim
The future has never felt this blurry

I'm trying to celebrate his life
but it's hard when I have so much fear... about his...

I just want to see candle #60.
And 61, 62, 63, 64.

Maybe I hate birthday candles
because sometimes they are tricks
Or because sometimes they go out before you get the chance to blow them--
before you get the chance to make your wish
before you get the chance to hope that it might actually come true

But maybe the reason I hate birthday candles this year

Is because a birthday wish should never be an

anything-but-death 

wish

run-on

I have nothing left

no more tears to cry

just salt stains on my hands & cheeks

exhausted, tired eyes

fears of the uncertainties

remind me this is not a dream

although every night when I fall asleep

I pray to God it will be

trivial worries

trivial words

suddenly everything lacks depth

everything lacks purpose

nothing is motivating

nothing seems worth it

because life is just a death sentence--

a run-on we try to make sense of--

and sometimes punctuation comes along

before we've had the chance to understand it

His eyes are growing tired comma

He paces comma

He doesn't sleep comma

He winces in pain when he thinks no one can see comma

People speak to him in a language of goodbyes comma

His words have all become sermons comma

Preaching to the choir that doesn't know how to carry on a melody without him comma

He observes everything so quietly comma

He breathes heavily comma

He kisses my mother comma

He holds her a bit tighter now comma

He holds her a bit longer now comma

He says "I love you" a little bit louder now comma

And I watch it all comma

Just praying that the punctuation comma

Continues to be a comma 

comma

And not a period

comma

Because I need there to be more commas.

There are lessons for him to teach me,

Guys I'll date that he will need to interrogate,

Taxes I need him to teach me how to do...

I need him to see me walk at graduation, for him to say 

"you did it kiddo, I'm proud of you."

I need him to dance with me at my wedding,

and see how happy I am on the day that I marry the man who will always remind me of him...

I need him to meet his grandchildren,

to be able to see into their little eyes 

and hold their tiny hands--

to kiss them and make them smile...

I need him to put me in line when I'm being selfish,

I need him to counsel me when it's time to correct the course,

I need him to push me when I don't know how to move forward,

I need him to be there to remind me what's most important,

I need more commas

I pray that God isn't particular about grammar,

That He'll allow me more commas than I'm likely to get,

That this life sentence can run-on longer than science says it can,

But no matter how many commas you give me,

God, 

I promise I will thank you

for each and every one

thinking on an empty stomach

she feels empty, but she doesn't know where the hollow feeling is coming from

it could be her heart--too many pieces of it bought a one way ticket to halfway around the world and I don't know if you've ever seen the shape of a human heart, but it makes a complicated puzzle even when all the pieces are accounted for. the first pieces were lost when she wasted too much time with a white knuckle grip on his every word and it wasn't long before she was reaching for something that was too far gone... and that was only the beginning.

but maybe the emptiness she feels resides behind her eyelids.  blank stares, glances at the ceiling, or too many hours spent watching trashy reality TV.  Her eyes are glazed and unfocused, unaware that each blink keeps time with the ticks of the clock--a constant countdown, eager to see the future unfold.

maybe the emptiness has engulfed her mind.  she longs for a spark of creativity, but the lights ran out of energy and now it's too dark in here to change the bulbs.  she searches her mind for beautiful moments of the past but sometimes the photographic memories are blurred and faded, too far gone.

maybe the emptiness she feels is the hunger in her stomach... she can't decide if she's paranoid about the freshman 15, or if she's just hungry for something more than counterfeit PB&Js and frozen pizza and Spongebob Mac&Cheese.  in the meantime, she fills voids of happiness with barbecue chips, but it's always short-lived.

she wonders if there's possibly a lack of oxygen in her lungs, as breathing has never been her strongest suit--blame it on the asthma, blame it on the altitude of the mountains she climbed only to find disappointment at the top. she's drowning in fear but knows she has nothing to be afraid of

but maybe the emptiness she feels, isn't emptiness at all.

maybe the emptiness is waiting patiently

for something more beautiful than the past

to fill in the cracks.

flash backs

I remember fluffy scrunchies and colored hair clips.

I remember single-colored (usually hot pink) sweat outfits.

I remember my first piano teacher and the photograph in the front room.

I remember that Max's Ride was the first book I ever learned how to read.

I remember when Milk and Chicken Noodle Soup made up my favorite meal.

I remember the lady with the pink driveway and the funny-smelling house.


I remember my first email address gymnastgirl_96@msn.com

I remember the Berenstein Bears.

I remember knowing the names of every dog in the neighborhood.

I remember light-up sneakers and platform flip-flops.

I remember hitting myself in the face with a microphone at the 3rd grade Christmas Program.

I remember the Suite Life of Zack & Cody game on the Disney Channel website.

I remember always wanting one of those barbie birthday cakes at Albertson's.

I remember Reese's Pieces :(

I remember grandpa's blue boat.
I remember he always had a stash of Ruffle's Cheddar Chips in there.

I remember the Christmas that our family got our first DVD player.

I remember the fourth grade spelling bee. I got out on the word "bridle." I spelled it "bridal."

I remember Sim's.

I remember code names like Dinner, Jordan River, Pizza, Triple B, etc, etc.


I remember neon duct tape jewelry.

I remember Funyun's.

I remember how much Mr. Hughes scared me.

I remember prank calling some guy named Gaylord that we found in the phone book.

I remember Diddy Kong Racing and Mario Party and Super Smash Brothers and Banjo Kazooie.

I remember red vans.

I remember the pig stuffed animal at girl's camp.

I remember when my brother's friends had blue and green and red hair.

I remember joy school and finger painting and books like "Piggy Pie"

I remember seeing star wars the night I broke my arm while my parents were out of town.

I remember the Beethoven movies.
And Land Before Time.
And Homeward Bound.
And Ninja Turtles.

I remember that the water at grandpa's condo tasted funny.

I remember when I saw that lady have a seizure.

I remember when I actually thought crafts were fun.

I remember hyperventilating at swim team tryouts when I was like 9 hahahahahaha.

I remember when my mom would take me to the library.

I remember the rabbits at the cemetery.

I remember striped sweaters and tanned skin.

I remember too-long hair.

I remember old school t-shirts and 3 a.m. on New Years Day.

I remember weird socks and tripping over chairs.

I remember first impressions.

I remember lasting impressions.

everybody's dust-shaking

This is for the benchwarmers.

This is for the students with parents who don't understand

that the alphabet continues after the letter A.

This is for those who work multiple jobs,

and for those who don't work at all.

This is for the couples who divorce after twenty years of marriage.

This is for the play-ground bullies, and what they are afraid of.

This is for the readers and the teachers;

the preachers and the believers.

This is for the class clowns that go home and hear nothing but put downs.

This is for you.  

This is for the loners, 

the stoners, 

and the fraudulent business owners.

This is for the thieves whose kids just need something to eat.

This is for the happy eyes,

and this is for every time they've cried.

This is for the lonely leaders.

This is for the picky eaters.

This is for the worriers,

and this is for the warriors.

This is for you.

This is for the over protective parents

and the absentee parents.

And this is for their children.

This is for the hood-wearers, the back row occupiers...

and their silent cries for help.

This is for the OCDs, 

ADDs, 

PTSDs, 

and everybody else 

who is constantly struggling.

This is for the high school dropouts,

the childhood dropouts,

the college dropouts,

the family dropouts,

the love dropouts,

and the life dropouts.

And this is for everyone.

We're just doing our best.

Shake the dust.

it's a wonderful life

Life is about dipping French fries in ice cream. Life is about driving in the rain. It's about watching the sun rise over the mountain on your way to school everyday. Life is about going to crazy parties but it's also about the weekends you stay at home binge-watching Grey's Anatomy on Netflix.

Life is about smiling babies and grumpy old men. It's about seeing new sights. Life is about holding hands. Life is about airport reunions. It's about rejection letters from colleges you hoped to attend. Life is about going to college anyway. Life is about forgiving and forgiving and forgiving.

Life is about loving someone who will never love you back, it's about the nights you spend looking at the stars, and it's about loving someone who will always love you back. It's about making babies laugh. Life is about climbing mountains to see the view from the top. Life is about spilling soda on yourself and finding beauty within all the imperfections.

Life is about failing tests. It's about learning. Life is about loving people more than things. Life is about screwing up. It's about getting knocked over. It's about getting knocked out. Life is about getting back up and gaining your balance only to get shot down again. Life is about getting back up and gaining your balance only to get shot down again. Life is about getting back up and gaining your balance only to get shot down again.

So when you feel like you're dying, and you can't go on any longer, remember that you're learning how much strength it takes to survive.

And remember that you have that strength.

Because although life is about pain, and adversity, and pressure, and loss, and failure... It's about a lot of other things too.

Things that make it worthwhile.