Before Goodbye

Dear Grandma & Grandpa,

If I got to ask one thing from God now, I would ask for my grandmother to have some more of her spare time on Earth. It is not because I’m greedy enough for her to want her to stay and make us happy and full without any missing pieces to search for right now. Yes, I am full. Yes, my family is happy. But truthfully, most of all, it is because I am willing to hold onto these little specks of light that I try to witness in every single life I have; all of those milestone moments I have tried to achieve and lose. How little can a person see from within themselves everything that they have ever had? A lick of a pineapple ice cream stick to refresh their hearts. A big, thrilling hug from a childhood friend. A kiss from a loving dog. A purr from a newborn kitten. An intimate hug you get on graduation day. A search for stars in a random evening sky. I have a truck in my garage, so why don’t we go for a ride? It’s two a.m. and you do not even care what time it is as long as you hold it for the moment. That’s what we do.

I have always wondered what I would be if I never got the chance to lose someone. Will my body be full? Will my mind be uncracked? Will I still ask questions? Will the heart still be there? If my mother never tells me I have lived this life from her belly, I have to owe it not to myself, but to someone else. I wondered what I would look like if I had never hurt my father by forcing him to work all the way with his ass off just to see me breathing slowly today. I have always wondered about the southest star in the sky because I’ve known it as my grandfather. Will someone you've lost witness to the very part of you that’s still trying?

I gulped, and gulped, and gulped without trying, and I pushed myself hard to the core to try to keep on loving, to keep on living, to keep on searching even when nobody sees my bright moment. Even when nobody seems to see the rainbows that I only witnessed for a short time. You used to be there but not anymore, and my father said it is okay to earn patience through the echoes of a cave. I used to have the thrill, but now I've lost it all in the middle of a camping trip in Southeast Ohio. And now I am still. Now, I breathe deeper. I can’t give up just yet, I tell myself. Some days I have a striking warmth. Some days it’s too cold outside. I can’t see you right through the eyes, but I can touch my chest, I can feel my heart beating slowly through every pump of my breathing, and I have everything, still, even when my grandfather is the south of the star. Even when my grandmother thinks she can fly with the birds. I am here, staying for the littlest before we get to say goodbye.

Love,

Valencia Wilianto, @PoetryOfHvaw