I cannot say this with a light heart,
Though my heart is hurt throughout all of it.
I am tired of losing the ones I love because of their time.
What if it wasn’t there time?
What if I didn’t say my goodbye?
What if I didn’t spend enough time in my day with them…
What if I regret….
I sit here thinking about how I could of saved my uncle,
How I could of spent more time with my grandfather,
How I could of kept in contact with a family friend.
It kills me on the inside, tearing, shredding apart every ounce of my being,
To not be able to do those things.
To not be able to see their face, again.
I remember the day my grandfather passed away.
It was cold in January, almost a week up at the hospital.
With little hope to hear him say my name, to hear him laugh, to see his blue eyes light up.
The very cold hospital room,
While the family sits around and tells stories because they knew, I knew,
We wouldn’t make it out….
I remember seeing my uncle drowning himself in his own salty tears because he knew he had to decide if it was okay to let go…
I didn’t want to let go, I wanted to hold on but that would only make my grandfather suffer,
still feel the pain in his life to where he can finally be free of pain,
free of hurt, and just…
I remember the night my uncle came into my home.
Yelling, crying, giving up every ounce of hope he had left.
That night there was no, “where is my ashamalee”
That night, the grim reaper himself was slashing at my uncles heart,
his mind, his soul,
to rip him apart to the point he was about to quit.
I sat there, trying to take my experience into light.
Don’t do it, we love you, others love you….
Till it finally broke him…
He hung himself in a closet leaving behind two daughter and a high school son
who was about to graduate – with me…
I remember finding a white kitten underneath my trailer home,
A family friend stopped and kept him.
His love for cats was clear and his heart was so big he would give up what little he had to help others.
I wanted him here, to see my success he always tried to keep me doing.
Till we got the call…
He didn’t go to work, no sign of him…
Until they found him…laying there, lifeless…
I never tell my mom how I feel because I am scared of crying.
I feel like the deaths in my family have ripped me apart one by one.
And the only thing that is keeping me here is her,
I could not leave this place, allowing my parents to feel the guilt, the pain, and the suffering that haunts me.
I just want happiness,
I want them back.
I want to say