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Death reminds us that life isn’t infinite and that one day, our time will come too.
It’s odd. Some people never see it coming, others have a countdown, and I don’t know which is worse.
She told me flowers reminded her of life—beautiful, delicate, and short-lived.
There’s not many things you can count on in life, but that . . . is one thing you can count on. It will rise and it will fall—no matter what. Don’t matter if you’re sick or sad. Don’t matter if there is war or there is peace. Don’t matter if you see it or you don’t. That sun. You can count on it.
“I love you, Mom. Thank you for having me, for raising me, for loving me, for being like the sun . . . the one thing I could always count on.”
When you shine brighter than the sun, it’s hard for others to look at you, so you have two choices: look and be blinded with resentment or look away.
But sometimes it’s the bad things in life that make us feel the most alive.
Money changes people the same way death does. If you don’t know how to manage every aspect of it, it’ll bring out the worst in you.
“What happens if we open our envelopes before her funeral?” Nicole asks. The lawyer pauses his quick exit, turns back, and lets out a sigh. “Probably nothing, but you should always respect the wishes of the dead.” His words send a chill down my spine, and I can’t pinpoint why they have that effect.
Lucas moved away after high school, and his father died in a hunting accident shortly thereafter. Emma’s mother, Susan, still lives in the house across the street. Her health has been declining for years.
I look past him out at the park. My eyes land on Charles, a tall, gangly man with a horseshoe mustache, long thin hair, and a slight hunchback. He’s in his forties and lives on the corner of our street. Not only is he an eyesore but so is his yard, which is filled with run-down vehicles he refuses to get rid of. He stands alone, staring at a group of teen girls who are attempting to create a human pyramid. A beer is clutched in one hand and a lit Marlboro cigarette is in his other, pinched between his pointer finger and thumb.
Observing the park again, my eyes stop on Charles. He flicks his cigarette butt and steps on it with his old dirty work boot, grinding it into the ground. The flapping butterflies are gone from my stomach, the ones that Brian always conjures up. In their place is a sinking feeling, a warning that something bad is about to happen. I know this because I’ve felt it before . . .
Like when I learned that three days after death, the enzymes that help break down a person’s food begin to eat their own body.
Anything can happen anywhere at any time.
They say the truth will set you free, but they don’t tell you it can set you free in the same way death does.
The more you lie the easier it becomes.
If I can keep my children close, I can keep them safe.
I slam the door closed behind me and breathe in the scent of fall—the crisp, sharp air mixed with the decay and rot of withering plants, dry leaves, and trees hunkering down for the season. It has a musky-sweet smell to it. Just like death, it’s all-consuming.
Resentment only poisons the person who consumes it, not the one it’s intended for.
I mouth my mother’s parting words once more . . . You’re not the child I wanted, but you’re the one I deserved. –Regretfully, your mother
I weep for Goofy. It was what Mom used to call Dad because he could never keep a straight face, even when he was mad. I know it’s him because of the gold wedding band hanging loosely from the bones of his ring finger.
Much like the eggs I just cracked into the skillet, sometimes something needs to be broken before it can be repaired, and I mean truly broken. A cup that has some cracks in it but still holds water, you don’t work on fixing it; instead it goes to the back of the cabinet. But a shattered cup needs to be mended to work again.
Sometimes we do the wrong thing for all the right reasons.
I spent my whole life being nervous up until I realized that life happens in between the beats of our own heart, and if it thumps too fast, there’s no space for us to live.
