Minor Revery

A moment after I posted that last entry, my mother called to tell me my grandmother had passed. And that my dad was on his way to Russia and no one knew where my brother was (turns out he made it to the North Pole after all). And as much as I cursed myself for having mourned only for my own loss, I kept the new sorrow at bay. And I mindlessly scanned my photographs and drank with my friends. I am so afraid to  get trapped below the water. I feel on the edge of something novel, vast, and murky. I am completely and honestly terrified to lose the light. I tear at my hair when I'm alone. I invent hopeful outcomes to get through the day and night. Above all, I am regretful and inward, and I don't know how to pray for other people because I am afraid to take on their losses as well. I stared through the palms today and sang "Hosanna in the highest" and I want time to speed up or back up and for me to have flown there and seen my grandmother one last time and picked boysenberries from her garden and learned her recipe for honey buns. And I want one more time for his arms to find me in the night. The end was near and the end has come. They tell me that the glory is Yours, and that my soul will be restored. I repeat the words one hundred times a day in the hope that I will learn to believe them, and feel everyone's pain but my own because mine does not matter, not to the kingdom, not to the crocus bulbs that finally blossom into the weather's new warmth.