addendum

pushed & pulled and stretched until shapeless

After I wrote, “come back”, a couple paragraphs floating at the bottom of the page:

Later that same day.

What blather I’ve spewed. Me, talking about death and dying as if I had some knowing or gifted understanding. Nobody knows. Nobody knows a damn thing about pain until they’ve been ripped open and had it all ripped out.

Blather.

We all feel so badly for the tragedies we hear about. A family that’s lost a child. A terrible car accident. Tragedies raining down on other people. We feel so sad for them. So very tragic. But these things befall others, not us. Even as I write this, I know that had I read it before you died, I would nod my head in agreement, “Oh yes, everyone thinks these things belong to other people. Fools.”

I was a fool. Now I’m a fool that’s joined the club of the broken hearted and disillusioned. Now I’m a fool that sits cross legged at the foot of the podium. I have nothing to say. Humility takes hunks out of me with its razor sharp chisel and leaves them all about. Shards of me everywhere.