Moon Pie

Moon Pie

Roo would have 20 this month… twenty…two decades…  Roo would have been…

Those words “would have been” stab at the heart like bolts of lightning.  The passing of time offers different words…speaking in a past tense… I try to pull the words into the present by force.  I didn’t know what to do.  Do I make a cake?  Cupcakes?  His favorite dinner?  I couldn’t do any of those so I bought a Moon Pie.  He liked Moon Pies.  I wanted to mark the day, but struggled with causing heartache for Rin and Joe.  It sounds crazy now, they knew what day it was and I think they were thinking the same thing.  We tip-toe around pain with each other…I almost hide my own.

I placed a small rock at his grave in the dark of the night.  I can hardly speak when I am there, but I had to place something physical there.

When I was alone I ate the sickeningly sweet Moon Pie and thought of him.  Oh, Roo…

I couldn’t bring myself to write on here.  I needed time away.  The step-mom just had a new baby boy the first week of September.  I don’t do newborns.  They trigger all things Gem.  I can’t believe she had a baby boy.  Jealousy, anger, and resentment swirl around this boy’s birth.  It’s not his fault he was born into the world of “After Roo.”

Loss creates these new worlds with titles – After Gem…After Jim…After Roo.  It’s like a train of tears that bleed into one another.  Each one colors life differently until everything is tinged with loss.  Morning coffee is no longer just coffee, but “morning coffee used to be accompanied by making sure Roo was awake”… “morning coffee used to be listening to his truck leave the driveway”… morning coffee used to be … different.




Daily Prompt: Silence


Life happens even when it’s silent.  Sometimes the silence holds the biggest changes.  Sometimes the silence is weighted…heavy…shoulders stoop from the pressure bearing down.

Silence is life devoid of you.  Silence is proof of the past.  Your room is silent…abnormally silent.  There is silence there because there was once sound…the past was filled with sound…this room housed sound.

Sound coming from tvs, radios, phones, the ceiling fan whirling created sound…the creak of the door in the morning, the clattering of backpacks, shoes, and books in the afternoon.  The door shutting as the work of school was done and there were better things to do with friends.

Sound of trucks, tools, friends, and Friday nights.  Bantering back and forth with your sister over bathroom time.

All these things held sound…your sleeping was sound…your anger was sound…your concentration was sound…

Now the silence is heavy, throbbing with absence it radiates from the places where you should be.