UNSCRIPTED, UNEDITED, REAL.......
No over thinking, just a flash mob of folks who spend five minutes writing with fury, guts and glory, linking up in one place to share stories that pour from the heart.....this weeks topic is.........
ENOUGH.........ready, set, GO!
Reminders and warnings that time is short, regrets can't be erased, your words too many spoken from wisdom and experience and regrets of your own, they are not enough. They are heard, they are nagging, but they aren't understood.
That call that comes....the one that parts the hours between day and night. That message that can't be erased, the one that tells you he has passed, and you read it and rub your eyes. You read it again and for a moment you question the difference between reality and bad dreams. But then you go through the dark, down the hall. You don't knock on the door, you just walk in and you startle awake the boy who has just lost his fishing buddy, his opinionated but hilarious, calloused hand, scraped knuckle, hard working, tell it like it is while cheering you on, always there in every way that mattered, Gramps. You watch, and you whisper, and reach out and console in all the ways you know how but your mom arms aren't big enough, and your love isn't loud enough to silence the sound of the tears that drop.
You watch him shatter. Little pieces that turn big quickly, piercing the heart of a mom who can't be enough to a hurt that is so deep. And you cry and acknowledge and offer and understand, and it hurts and it aches and it makes you angry and sad and you remember that pain, you've walked through it too. You remember that only HE is enough. So you turn and hide, dropping to you knees in your heart and you speak fast and pleading for HIS presence, for the peace and the comfort only HE can give. You beg that the hurt is only big enough to remind him of a love that was bigger and that the tears only fall long enough to remind him of the laughs that they shared on the lakes that they fished.
You realize that the 20 years he called him Gramps is suppose to be enough, when right now it just isn't.
He calls from the side of the road, late in the night on the drive back home from the first goodbye. You answer the phone in tears, already knowing that your words and your love aren't enough to quiet the tears on the other end but you try anyway, speaking and soothing and praying and pleading with the only one who is enough to bring the healing.
