Its Often All the Same to Me

you always wonder what people will think when you write about something personal for a group of people. you wonder who will read it when you make it public, you wonder who will tell you they read it, and i think above all else you wonder what their reaction will be. for me thats the most nerve wrecking part!i want to know what theyre thinking but i dont want to ask them.



they say that silence is deafening, and i only think theres truth to that because the silence allows your own mind to think what it wants as loudly as it wants to. its almost like you have this strange internal argument where the rational side of you is trying to talk the irrational side down from the ledge, only to realize that nothing is working. we still try to calm ourselves down anyway. we dont want to speak the lunacy out loud because we want it to be our secret that were crazy...well get over that notion right quick because it doesnt work that way.


when i wrote this poem i did so for someone else, and they had no prior knowledge. most days i have plenty to say on my own, but every now and then whatever im saying im not saying for me. you cant always put things into perspective for yourself, sometimes you need someone on the outside looking in to do it for you. now by no means am i on the outside of this situation, but in the brief moments it took me to write this, i was, standing on the outside. and when i was done writing it the irrational side of me ran towards the edge of the cliff with record pace. this dark cloud of doubt had settled over what i had just done, these unrealistic ramifications settled in and made me feel incapable of sharing it.


life, death, love, loss, grief, anger, etc...all of these are very touchy subjects to write about, especailly when the subject is real and present. i wrote "maybe its enough" three weeks before i posted it for the public eye. granted, all the doubt couldve played a significant role in the timing of this particular piece, but i had no reason to doubt at all. i only know of one person whos read it. it just so happens that this person is the reason i wrote it in the first place. she didnt have to tell me and she certainly didnt have to thank me, but she did.


its been said that people put pen to page to make sense of the confusing and bring peace to a restlessness within them. i like writing for myself, for me its the fastest way that i can make sense of my world. but truth be told i would rather bring peace to someone elses world, there is no greater feeling than that, someone elses sigh of relief. that brings peace to me just the same.

Dont Be Afraid to Share

About a month ago we learned that the clinical trial medication my grandmother was taking wasnt working, the CAT scan showed that her tumor had grown. We asked the doctor what the chemo options were, we scheduled an appointment for the day that she would start it, had the prescriptions filled, and then waited for that day to arrive. However at this doctors appointment no one wanted to ask the only question that was really important, what her prognosis was if she did nothing. I had to know. The doctor said, "at best, one year" and then he apologized. I had to walk back into that hospital room so I couldn't call apart...but I wanted to. One year at best. Not surprising, but not easy to hear either. Later that week I told my cousin. Her initial response was that we knew that already, that's what the doctor said the first time around. My cousin is like me, we don't wear our hearts on our sleeves all the time, in our family it's not a luxury we have nor is it one we would take advantage of even if we did. My cousin and I were headed out for some drinks with a friend, and somehow we landed on the subject of our dying grandmother. At that point the tears were inevitable. She looked at me and said, "it's not much time". 

Sometimes it's better to say nothing then to try to find comforting words, and so I said nothing. I felt the same way, and I knew that there was nothing that I could hear that would make me feel better, so why bother? However, that statement resonated with me, I couldn't shake it. There was so much more to be said, but what? It took me a few days to shed even the slightest amount of hope through the finality of this situation, but finally I did. What you will read next is my attempt at finding the silver lining...


One year.

Maybe less.
But not more.
One year.
It's not much time.
With life in the fast lane years pass like days.
One year.
One birthday.
One Thanksgiving.
One Christmas.
One less then we thought she'd miss.
One year.
Maybe less.
At most, 365 days we can choose not to take for granted.
One year.
Maybe less.
But not more.
One year.
It's not much time.
But maybe it's enough.
One year to say 'i love you'.
365 days to say 'thank you'.
8,760 hours worth of memories.
525,600 breath taking moments.
31,536,000 seconds you'll never have again.
One year.
Maybe less.
It's not much time.
But maybe it's enough.


Initially I posted this on my blog "Sweet Silver Lining", I was skeptical to post it on my facebook because I'm friends with all my family, and I wasn't ure of their reaction. It's a touchy subject as you can imagine. However I had this nagging thought that I should and run this risk of offending someone. It's God's way of reminding me that I wrote it for a reason, my cousin sparked something, but left it in a hopeless state, and I was supposed to bring it full circle with my words. I posted it on facebook and I asked that no one comment on it. Tonight my cousin read it. Afterward I got this text, "just read 'maybe it's enough'. i love your words and i love you." This situation needs hope, and if I have that I can't be afraid to share it!