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A Letter to My Past Pains: Inspired by a Past Friend
November of 2011
I lost my only grandfather. A big man with a white beard, whom my cousins and I used to call Santa Claus. Everyone has to learn to accept death within ther life, his death was the bginning of my undertsanding. Your house will always smell of leather and a variety of dogs. Grandma always wants to talk about you now, but can't because my little brother can do nothing but cry when he hears the word "Papa". We still have your portrait up in the house, as well as every note abut each litter of puppies that were born in the white barn out in the field where the horses usedto roam.
Only two dogs are left, and Grandma can't find your hospital coat. It's taken years for her to sleep without it, but she still aches for the fabric against her skin.
december of 2012
I lost my childhood best friend. Not through death or anything bad like that, just because friendships end. I still don't quite understand why our seven year friendship ended, but it doesn't hurt anymore. It hasn't hurt for a lot of years.
I still remember the remarks about my body in the lunchroom in the 4th grade from kids who shouldn't have known about beaity standards, and I still remember the sleepovers every other weekend with contracts written by my mom and cheesy pizza you never ate.
I also remember how we wrote "BFF" on all of our drawings and pictures, and how I always believed in the forever. Even though there is no forever.
-- The dates mattered less as the years passed. --
I lost my first love. What I didn't know then but know now is that first loves aren't meant to last. I wasn't going to forever see your auburn hair and freckles in the sunlight, because it wasn't meant to last.
I wasn't always supposed to meet you at the park under the shady oak tree, no because I was supposed to leave you a note there saying I loved you but couldn't handle you. I wasn't going to kiss you under the shady oak tree, no because you were supposed to lie to me and say you didn't love me under the tree. We weren't supposed to be together for all time, no because you chew tobacco and play football now while I write dramatic writings and sleep too much.
The thing is, I knew it wouldn't last. I read the fairytales where Ariel killed herself and Aurora was raped by Phillip and woke up pregnant. I read one haooy ending, Thumbelina. She and her love lived happily ever after in their flower, small and agile but happy.
So in my head, I wanted to be small and wonderful like Thumbelina. I wasn't and that's okay.
I lost my great-grandmother. A small dainty woman whom I got my eyes from. Our eyes were/are the kind of light we had/have been told are mesmerizing. She was as stubborn as anyone I'll ever meet. For her last two or so months, I brought her her food. Toast with jam and orange juice (extra pulp). Always the same, every day. I sat with her during breakfat and watched That 70s Show, and her favorite character was Hype (she always hated Kelso). I remember she always smelled of jam and sweet mints. She also made the best triple chocolate cake that there will ever be.
I still haven't been to her grave, and I want to. I just want to talk to her, about everything. I want to know what she'd think of the past few years, because her opinion still means a lot to me.