two years ago yesterday, my best friend, Chris committed suicide. He was my friend since birth, we went to the same schools together in California. We used to spend hours playing in my yard, in our special tree house. we would pretend that we were pirates, sailing the oceans, the wind in our hair. but apparently it wasn't enough. I almost forgot about it. but then i looked at my calender and started to cry. I wish i could have left a dozen roses on his grave. i know molly, his mom, would have been there, at his grave yesterday. i should have been there. I miss you Chris.
A dark and dreary day it could have been,
A funeral procession,
Heads hung in mourning numbers,
A young man in infinite slumber,
Buried in rich red velvet and dark mahogany;
his friends and family in agony.
They ask, "Why did he want to leave?
To go, and make us grieve?"
The thick gray headstone might have read,
Our son, Forever, we lay him to bed.
Then they'd walk away, weeping
And he'd just be sleeping...
That was the way it could have been,
After weeks and months, maybe ten
Years would go by, and someone would query
"Who was that boy, so young it was eerie,
That he would want to die,
Even before he gave life a try."
Or ask, "Think of his mother, what must she feel?
Does she still think if this is actually real?
Or does she wish her son will still come home?"
Even though now his soul might roam
In the wide open world he needed so severely,
Despite the people he hurt so badly...
That was almost the way things turned out,
Death seemed the only way to go about
The confusion inside his heart and soul,
That pain added to all other hurts-the whole
Suffering-that came with the package.
All that bottled emotion turned to rage,
he found a self-destructive outlet,
his way of screaming, but being quiet
Enough for no one to hear
his pain, and all that fear
Of dying in that grotesque way,
Wanting to go, needing to stay...
That is not the way things are now,
he has learned, and he knows how
To feel pain and cry, letting it all go,
And float away with the breeze, so
he is happier, his mother doesn't ask "Why?"
his friends don't wear black, marching by
his grave, his family doesn't weep
At the memories they so painstakingly keep.
Now, all together they can sit in the sunshine,
Making new memories and laughing away the time.
he loves what life gives him, even if it invokes a tear
To form, he is glad to even be here.
