6thone

[6thone]

'Hello: Synonymous to Goodbye'

...He asks me to lay down with him and I do so without reluctance – which slightly astonishes him because he’s never known me for putting my fists down so easily.

I am in his arms and he’s inhaling my exhale and we’re utterly silent. We’re usually content with silence – it happens to be one of our favorite languages – but not this time; my lack of eloquence gives it off. He pulls me closer, slightly brushes his lips against my forehead before softly asking: “How are you?”… I find his eyes piercing and searching to find out whether or not I am still alive. I smile and burst into a mournful cry in less than a split second. My brain fails to communicate why his three words faze me so intensively. Prior to this outburst, he has never seen me pour before; I found that there never was a glass to pour into.

He is in love with and in awe of my unfolding. He, however, does not speak as you’d expect when one sees a person crying their eyeballs out. Perhaps it’s because he hasn’t words to comfort me or he knows my soul simply needs a cathartic moment and all he has to do is be present. He embraces me as though I am a prodigal son that just returned home. All I knew was I was wandering.

I did not know this was home. I did not know I could come home. I didn’t know he is home. I feel alive! Like a new born who finally finds his mother’s nipple. Like a little girl who enters a bus after awaiting 3 hours. Like a crippled man taking his first step. I feel like I am out of the water, I do not have to hold my breath any longer. I feel "uncaged".

Inhale, exhale. This feels good!

Why was my heart suffocating when all along you had been a breath awaiting permission? Why was I impoverished when you were riches hidden in scripture? He catches a glimpse of me racing through my mind - almost as if he can hear my thoughts – and rhythmically says, “no matter what you ask of the daffodil, it will still wait until spring to bloom.” Ah! A beautiful Rudy Francisco piece. The sermon ends and I now must carry this newness back to 6th street – my house. I thank him for being my abundance and for kissing me like redemption.

He hugs me tightly and whispers in my left ear; “thank you for finding your way home.”

I can’t help but notice that the sun is too lazy to report to work this morning. Nonetheless, I pay no mind to it because we all need a break. I enthusiastically grab my phone to message my newly-found home only to be welcomed by 3 messages from him that read as follows: You Heal Me. It was sent at 01:56 a.m. I softly chuckle until I see another text from our mutual friend informing me that his clock had stopped ticking, precisely at 02:14 a.m. He died in his sleep. He’s dead? He’s dead. I am alive. He died peacefully. I am going to live chaotically. He felt nothing. I feel everything… 🌻