sad

i got a phone call while i was in class

it was pastor terry

my aunt mimi's father died

he shot himself after signing himself out of a psychiatric hospital

it wasn't just a regular death, though. it was a death that stirred my soul and shook my bones

you probably wonder why since i didn't really know him

i will tell you:

it wasn't so long ago that i was at that place, too. it's hard to describe because it is different for different people. in my "place", it was always dark. there were voices. sometimes i could hear what they were saying and sometimes i couldn't. i was always scared, so scared. it didn't seem worth it. there was no one worth living for, no tomorrow that looked like a bright, new future. it wasn't that i didn't care. it was that i cared too much. i recall sitting on my bed one morning at two a.m., counting pills and wondering how many it would take, wondering if i should take them all at once or one at a time.

the question that comes to mind is why?

why? why? why?

sometimes all the why's get all muddled up together and block out the sunlight

i concentrate on the sunlight so i don't get lost in the shadows

i concentrate on the cross so i don't get lost in the experience

and then an idea surfaces

not a minute too soon:

HOPE

HOPE is what i have that guides me through the day

HOPE is what i have that lets me sleep at night

HOPE is the light at the end of the tunnel

i know hope isn't the answer but it's enough to get me through today


in memory of AC Allman, a man who lost all hope