A forest- just for you.

Yesterday the sky opened up and did the inevitable. It reclaimed one of its stars who bears the name of my cousin.

He was a gentle force. Quiet. Observing. Steady.

What a strange thing death is. What an even stranger concept is what Christian bypass cosplaying as care tells us. “He won’t put more on you than you can bear.” Or “God needed him more.” Anyone with a broken heart knows it can absolutely be too much to bear. Today I littered tears throughout my neighborhood in hopes that whatever grows in its place looks like him.

A gentle force. Quiet. Observing. Steady.

Before this grief calcifies into anger, I’ll cry enough to start your Forest, dear cousin. When you’re ready, come dwell in it. Through the leaves. In the bark. In the dew of morning.

All day I thought I needed a hug. I likely did, but I also needed someone to hold the tools while I planted your seeds. I needed someone to witness the burial that eventually sprouts into your forest.

I needed room to fall apart and be angry. I’m not sure why God keeps taking my folks. My forest continues to grow despite every effort on my part to stop it. The only hope is that everyone I love will one day have roots there. That I would’ve prepared a wonderful place for them to grow with me.