by: Matthew Vaughn
Sitting diagonal to a queen two moons past comfort, I try not to breathe too heavy. Afraid I may frighten her into forever, I speak softly, but with bass enough to be felt. I have never met this beauty, but she is fairly familiar with my face. I am told I resemble Her brother, my grandfather. I find this to be truth when a smile awakens to the mountains of Her cheekbones and a whisper is screamed into my spirit, “How are you doing?” I recite a half truth and tell Her I am well, feed Her hand into my own, and watch as Her wisdom dances still. We share a brief kiss of the eyes, mine, drifting above Her brow to the grey coils wrapping towards a crown.
Tears of another elder cause a chaos in my chest. I witness the pain between two weeping rivers of remember when and a future without. A loss of hope engulfs the hearts of Her lineage, a gain of understanding sweeps them with purpose. Traveling word informs me, she is given the remainder of the week. Directly into the ear of my mother, and to the lip-reading eyes of my grandmother, “I'm ready to go,” is Her calling.
I write this story without a drop of sorrow, not because I am strong, but because I was only awarded with a moment, and, fortunately, a living and mysteriously nostalgic one. Death often attacks without consideration for those outside of its grasp. It usually does not wave goodbye nor express its love one last time. But it is one last time that we get. Whether or not we know it is then is for the moment to reveal itself to passing truths. This year, a year of unexpectedness, my first year at a college and my first year losing a friend from college, a year which my father's mother volunteered mortality and was denied in her effort, a year which my mother's mother shivered at the mere mentioning of such… as we still await her results, I have learned how troubling the acceptance aspect can be. This is, however, a glorious reflection on the light we have casted in whatever amount of perceived time we are here. It is intentional in both the process of mourning we endure, in whatever way that may be, and the clarity and lessons learned following. Although mortality is on its way, we can still live with enough purpose to enjoy and be enjoyed in everlasting life. In the hearts of our homes. In the memory of many spirits. In the love we spread which lasts, without conditions, into eternal.
Student + Spirit + Poet + Tree + Maroon Arts Group + Member of Underdog Academy
instagram: @MatthewVaughnUA & @underdogacademy
twitter: @MatthewVaughnUA & @underdogacademy
Be sure to keep up with Matthew on social media and please leave comments on this page to offer words of encouragement, to share your story and to keep the dialogue going.