Remember that time I killed you? I got tired of you hanging around. You were always there, hovering… Always judging me it seemed. How dare you look down on me with your inflated sense of righteousness.
And then I got tired of the struggle. I released my anger with the opening of a Winchester Blade and slit your plastic existence till you gave a whiny scream. No one wept as I stowed you away for another day’s labor. No one will miss you now that you are out of sight.
Inspiration rises with the sun.
As dreams seem to finally be done.
Scary things, who dreams these things?
The dark has never been darker it seems.
But there is always a right with the left.
A truth I desperately hold to self.
And there it is, my shining light.
A light to break the darkest night.
I am just now returning from burying my last grandparent. My last one ever. For those of us that are adopted we tend to take our future bonds seriously and we hold onto them religiously. For some of us our adopted blood becomes our blood, or at least we allow ourselves to feel that way. When anyone loses a loved one it hurts. It pains your heart and causes you to falter, but you cannot falter because you are a pallbearer. You have a coffin to carry.
We carried my grandmother past the names we didn’t know. We walked past my Uncle buried nearby and stepped around the grave of a friend I still miss to this day, that I know is in heaven. My heart quickened with the sound of the rollers as her coffin was put in place. We stood and sang about what had happened and what is to come. We showed her our love under the Jackson sun and sent her off with a unique farewell of religion, love, family, and friends.
I feel like the sun is a little brighter and that is from the reunion I know is taking place right now.
Jason C. Cushman
I know people that read my blog have been waiting for me to say something profound on death and life. Honestly I have nothing inspiring to say today. All I am left with is a deep appreciation for family, love, and the blessing of knowing what love and family mean to me. They mean everything and they become more and more important as the love grows and the number of people you count as family falls.
I can’t believe this Shoney’s is closed! Nooooooo!!!!
Flying back to my childhood home, Jackson, Mississippi. Going “home” to bury my grandmother… my last grandparent that was living. I’ve had better weeks.
I could close my light to the light around it. Folding inside till there is no more inside. I turn away from everything until I turn away from it all. Closing light to accept a light is gone. I know acceptance now. And yet I miss the light. I miss it still.
There is half a piece of bread by my bed. A half eaten decision made at about 11:45 last night. It reminds me of a thought, half a thought because I can’t remember the rest. It seems a shame that somewhere hanging still is half a sentence. Breaking in half a paragraph that may have been. I lament half of the loss.
Jason C. Cushman
I could lay my life on the line. On a line followed by another line and another. Opening the pages of my heart with delicate finger that gently picks back the layers of my past. Some pages stuck together by tender emotion forming permanent rest. I pry them open with despair and allow release of my dusty sighs. They pass me by with cries of joy at final release, as they rain once more the terrors upon my body. I pause between giving in and getting out as I see my future regret before me. He points me back towards final decision and shines a light upon another path. It is not a religious light or mystic cause. Instead a dreamscape takes place and words are stepped on as clouds are given to a thought. I ponder another moment before giving in to shuttered eye and leave the world one last peaceful kiss goodbye.