I Think of You Often, but Even More Now
An audio lamentation
I think of you often, but even
more now, and maybe it’s because
it’s Autumn — the season when I’m
at my loneliest.
I hate the term, “deceased.”
I am still trying on the best way
to tell people about you in the
past tense.
How can I?
Why would I even want to?
It’s a necessary evil, though.
“My late cousin …”
“My cousin who died
earlier this year.”
I hate all of these ways
of saying you’re no longer
here with us, and none of them
will make me miss
you any less.
So, what’s the point?
October had already been
a struggle-month for me.
I am urging myself to see
it as a month of celebration — you
were born during this month;
a gift to this world full of
nonsense and hatred.
However, as it is, these feelings
King Kong me, often out of
nowhere, and it takes everything
I have in me to get back to
some semblance of normal.
I tell people, “I am good.”
Because I will be, eventually.
I hate filling their ears with my
off-and-on depression and
medically diagnosed “adjustment disorder.”
I am a bag lady, carrying these
things with me, unable to unpack — not
right now. Not just yet.
But I am trying.
At every turn of every day,
I see your smiling face.
I hear the joyfulness of your laughter.
I remember your meaningful embrace.
I always felt loved.
I always knew love existed through you.
I never had to question it.
And as time continues on
in the way it typically does,
I feel like I’m being Mister’d into
becoming Celie who lost Nettie,
and the pain of the loss
rears its ugly head when
I least expect it.
I tick off another month of
therapy, another week of working
overtime, and another day of
just getting by.
Oh, I think of you often, but
even more now.
Happy Birthday, Chrissy.
I say it to the air around me.
I whisper it to the clouds.
I swirl it around my tongue, and
blow it away from me as
quickly as I can.
Happy Birthday, Chrissy.
*Author’s Note: Chrissy’s birthday is on October 12, 2022. There isn’t a day that passes when I don’t think about her. She will forever be in my heart — often on my mind — and deeply rooted within my thoughts. I miss her. I truly miss her.
Thank you for reading — for listening. Peace.
©2022 Tremaine L. Loadholt
