And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
likeness, image of
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.
~ Pablo Neruda
He wasn’t a writer. He’d never written in a journal — he’d even been the stereotypical jock that paid someone else to write his English papers. But she was. She had had a way with words like no other he’d ever come across. But one day, her words ceased, along with her presence in this world. He didn’t understand it. He never would.
The day she left, he began to write.
‘Her name was Abigail, but everyone called her Abby,’ he wrote. 'She was beautiful in a way that you could see kindness dancing behind her blue eyes before you noticed anything else. She didn’t demand attention, she remained silent and waited until it was her turn to receive it. Although, it never took long, because once anyone saw the grace and sweetness she carried, they couldn’t help but want to be around her. And I think that’s what I’ll remember about her most - her ability to draw people near, just because of her personality.
I don’t think a day will go by when I don’t think of her. I miss hearing her response of, 'What-y?’ every time someone called her name. I miss her terrible taste in music. I miss her embrace. I just miss..her.
So today, I asked God why bad things happen to good people. Abby would have rolled her eyes at me for that. She would have sighed and said, 'That only happened once, and He asked for it.’ She would have reminded me that God isn’t fair, He is just.
So here I sit, in my dead girlfriend’s bedroom, and I weep. She was special, I always knew she was. She was so incredibly special that God called her home at 19 years old; He just couldn’t be without her any longer.’
excerpt from an unfinished book #144 // Eulogy for the loved
You pre-heat and support, you lift up and reveal, you say yes when I see no, you are warm when my socks are wet, you are comfy when I’m sore, you are bright when I see darkness, you are the bus when I’m late, you are fully stocked when I’m running empty, you are music when I can’t hear, you are the sun when I’m cloudy, you are home when I’m lost, you know when I don’t, you are butterflies, you are south when my heart leaves for winter, you are smiles when I can’t find them, you are the globe on my shelf spinning and revealing all there is to see, you are the world waiting to be found, you are my soul, and vice versa.