I thought of you tonight,
as I do every so often -
not a passing memory,
but a fixation,
always right before I sleep,
when all the thoughts I've been hiding from
surface for me to drown in.

And I cried all over again,
huge, racking sobs that shook me,
didn't let me breathe.

You can still do that to me
after nearly four years
since that day you claimed your life.

And I wonder if,
looking at us from wherever you are -
your family,
me -
you are sorry to have caused this pain,
or meant to.

I guess what I wish most
is one more chance to talk to you.
If I believed in occult matters
and communion with the dead,
believe me,
I would try it,
for one last chance to see you,
and to ask, above all,

why?

Did you do it for attention?
Did you mean for us to mourn you endlessly,
unable to forget you,
unable to pass two weeks
without soaking our pillows in tears,
even years later?

Did you do it out of self-pity,
because you weren't all of the things
we wanted you to be,
or you thought we wanted you to be?

Did you honestly believe
that we didn't love you,
or that the adolescent scorn of parents
was anything more than a phase?

And, above all,
did you really fail to know,
on that morning in December,
even as we were driving back to you,
that you would be robbing all of us
of every completely happy moment
for the rest of our lives,
simply because you should have been there,
should have been included
and won't be?

And it hurts me to think these things,
these accusations,
these questionings of a person
who I had always thought so strong
and stable
and who, inexplicably, deserted me,
because the bottom line is,
I miss you.

So, so much.

But I have no answers,
and never will.
You took them all with you.
I am left with nothing
but bitter and salt-stained questions.

I hope you are happy.

I hope you've found your peace.

06/13/2004

Posted on 06/14/2004
Copyright © 2024 Amanda J Cobb