she's gone...or not

saturday.

she died.

or whatever the fuck people call it these days. transitioned, expired, passed on, transformed. SHIT. the only thing i knew at the time was that my granny wasn't HERE anymore.

i kept pinpricking my brain with memories, hoping some emotion would bleed through and yet praying i had enough strength to staunch the pain before it saturated my sanity. i'm not into self-mutilation, but this weekend i made an exercise of cutting myself with shards of regret. don't feel sorry for me though. i did it to lance the cancerous assumption i had that time twiddled it's thumbs and waited for me downstairs in the living room while i stood upstairs in front of my closet full of threadbare dreams trying to decide what i should wear.

yesterday i went outside and the sun shined just the same as it had the morning before. i admit a part of me thought it would have dimmed, absent of the light from my granny's smile after the mets win a game. i thought the air would be less sweet, absent of the smell of my granny's perfumed skin on a sunday morning before church. i thought the birds would chirp less cheerfully, absent of my granny's chuckles after i told her a corny joke.

instead, i witnessed the bright sun and knew she still smiled upon me

i breathed in the sweet air and knew she still held me at her bosom

i heard the birds chirping and knew she still spoke to me

so in the end, i've got her right where i need her most

EVERYWHERE.