Author Archives: blaak sheep

You come visit me in my dreams, in that big, old house. Not the first one, but the second one that was shaped like a barn, you cooking dinner and sipping wine; me making salad and setting the table for eight in the kitchen, after which I sit in front of a roaring fire, settling down with a good book while the boys play chess on lamp lit couches. Then, it’s Christmas time, and we are fussing over decorating the house perfectly, fresh cedar garland with holly berries wrapped around the deep wooden staircase railing, making sure there are just enough presents for everyone. While we wait for them to arrive, a snowy backdrop hovers outside the glittering window panes. You appear in the hallway that has golf green felt carpet on its floor, your whole body shimmering like a jellyfish in an aquarium, and your sister stands beside you with the same smile as you, one that is brighter than the white lights that rest on the mantle. Even though life brought you a lot of pain, you are always happy in my dreams, which comforts me. It could be the end of the world, but I am safe, and will always be.

They poke holes

in your cheeks

each time you smile

they make other people smile

in return

With a straight face

your skin is normally taut and rigid

but then you smile

even if it’s fake

and they light up your face

like magic

diamonds

in the rough

of sadness

one guy came up to me at the ferry terminal

he said, “You know, dimples are hot!”

You illuminate

even when you’re not trying

If you have them,

you know you do

use them

to make everyone happy

even if you only receive a smirk

a giggle

At least it’s better than tears

Hands grasping

in mid air

gripping nothing

except pain

that comes from within

from your ancestors

from yourself

you were born into it

unable to escape

On this day

I remember you

writhing

the still, deep ponds of your eyes

looking away

into a distant, unknown place

searching

you let go

finally

to find that place

eloping

where you can truly live

without pain

I can’t understand it

but I get it

now that you

are gone

into the ocean

scattered

the rain whips you away

into my dreams

where you remain

forever

The past few days I’ve been feeling a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach, like someone just died.

Grief has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. You think you’re fine and all is well, and then bam, it is like liquid cement being siphoned into your veins. You have to accept it as part of your life, not fight it, and roll with the waves that crash onto the shore of your being. Let the water trickle and flow over your skin and limbs, stirring the weight into your soul to become who you are now.

When she left me that day, a part of her became a leaden force inside me. Some days it wears me down, when it first hits me, like lifting weights and feeling the pain in your muscles, but then after while it builds me up and makes me powerful, bolder, braver, nourishing me.

I surround myself with things that remind me of her: pink carnations, strawberries on toast, classical music playing on the radio, a book on a rainy day – these are things which bring me comfort and live out her legacy, which is what grief is meant to do – to carry you.

Grief has a way of benefiting if you let it; it is not a burden, but rather a gift, the gift of the gratitude of life. It reminds me that she loves me.

I love the enchantment of a rare snowfall. While some people see it as black magic, I see it as the essence of purity. All the drab, blackened trees wear dollops of white mounds, the browned shrubs alive with diamond-encrusted tips. The earth becomes hardened yet soft with the feathery flakes that become one stretched milky palette of fresh paint that covers all flaws.

People on the streets are smiling, laughing even as they throw snowballs at each other and sculpt rounded caricatures and forts. Children (and adults) are delighted to toboggan down steep hills, the entire community can be seen on the hill’s top, having conversations and competitions.

I know driving is no fun, but when you’re not on wheels, it’s a treat for all the senses. The scent of the crisp air, the reverent hush that surrounds everything, the reflection of the sunbeams against the powdery surface, crystals on your tongue, Winter’s cold breath on your face soothes and awakens like a fresh sprig of mint. I just see the beauty of it all until I slip on a patch of ice lurking on the sidewalk.