Skulls and Angels

I felt a bit shocked when I found out Mindy McCready had killed herself. I always liked her music, and it makes me incredibly sad to think that she's gone, but I hope that she is free from the pain she experienced in this life. My thoughts and prayers are with her children and family. Remember her for the beautiful gift of music she shared with the world. Rest in peace, Mindy. Thank you for the lovely songs you shared with us. I hope that your soul finds rest on the other side. Blessed be.


I've played the song "I'll See You Yesterday" twice already. So much beauty and pain in that song. I couldn't help crying. I've felt the same things the song describes too many times to count. It was heartbreaking to hear it given voice to so clearly. The song is haunting. Maybe because I know she finally let go. I've always been taught that suicide is a sin, but the Creator that I choose to have faith in would not torture people for being desperate and in pain. That's what suicide is about: pain that feels too big to be contained in one physical body. And I'm sorry, but I don't think being in pain is a crime.

I've lost people I cared for to suicide and found out after the fact. And yes, it hurts like hell to lose them. It makes you wonder. You ask all kinds of questions: Why? How? What could I have done? You feel a little guilty.  What if there was something you could've done to prevent this? The person I lost wasn't a family member. He was a teacher of mine in high school, and in a lot of ways, I felt felt very close to him. We shared common ground in a sense, because he had physical challenges as well. He was a mentor to me. He made me feel that it was possible to do whatever I wanted in spite of my CP. He himself had a birth defect that meant he had no legs,. He had knees, and feet, but he'd been born without legs.

Yet, he went to college and became a teacher. He had a family.  He traveled. He made me love history. He told me he knew I could do whatever I wanted to. It was easier to believe him when he said it, because he'd done it himself. It felt like having the rug pulled out from under me when I heard what had happened, and I felt devastated. But, I also know what it feels like to be suicidal. To feel as if the world would be better if you weren't here. I've struggled and still struggle with that from time to time, so I hold no judgement for anyone who faces suicide. I know it's not easy to live with that kind of pain every day.

Sometimes it seems impossible to overcome it. It's easy to be angry when suicide happens, but it's important to remember that a person is more than the sum of one event. Suicide leaves holes behind, but suicide doesn't somehow make a person less than they have been. Remember the good, the bad, and the imperfect, remember laughter...remember life, not death.

God, I can hardly believe that tomorrow will be a year. One whole year since my father died. We spent today at Hobby Lobby, picking things to go on his grave, which was actually much less depressing than it sounds.  My two nephews were with us, and they can always make me smile. Those two boys represent everything that I love about life right now.

They are loving and funny and precious. I used to pray before they were born that they'd be safe and happy. They mean everything to me. Some days, they are all that keeps me from sinking into the mental quicksand I've found myself in lately. I'm trying my best to hold it together and be at least okay, even if happy is beyond me right now.

Tomorrow I'm going to the zoo with my sister and my babies, and I will do my best to enjoy the day, despite the heat and the fact that it will be the anniversary of my father's death. He wouldn't have wanted any of us to be sad, I know, but I can't help missing him. My heart hurts.

Heart bleeding,
eyes run clear.

Emptiness fills me.
Death lingers in
my thoughts
like the scent of
stale perfume.

He is gone.
Left me behind
like an empty shell-
Broken and jagged-
Resting on shifting sands.

Carry me away, to a place
where pain cannot hurt-please.
Blood flows from a self-made wound-
only a temporary peace.

I look up at you- and smile.
"I'm fine."

A/N: Please forgive this. I just got some bad news today, and this decided to spawn itself. It's not a happy story, so don't say I didn't warn you. Might trigger, so be safe, please. No one is dead in RL, but this was apparently lurking in my brain, and some of it is based on my life. Make of that what you will, and please feel free to share what you think. Feedback and support would be very appreciated right now.

Play me a sweet song. It's one that I heard a long time ago. I can only half remember the melody, and it haunts my dreams like a long-forgotten ghost whose presence lingers on the earth long after his body has ceased to be even ash. His pain is the only impression now, so sad. Did some loving daughter call him father? Did he whisper his 'I-love yous' as she dreamed, while the scent of whiskey hung heavy on his breath? He wanted to avoid the pain in her eyes.

She had once idolized him. Now, that was no more, and it pained him. He had tried again to apologize, but failed. It fell against her skin like broken glass, wounding her. The 'sorry' was too overused, like the greasy rags in his shop. He planted wet, alcohol scented kisses on her head, and she wanted to flinch away. She stayed, though. That was the only time he ever kissed her at all, and she was grateful for that, even when the smell of bourbon made her light-headed. The kisses were sloppy, half-landed things that she wanted to bask in. She wanted to be simply another little girl whose daddy would kiss her goodnight. He pulled away to take another drink. She cried.

He would destroy himself, and it would happen before her eyes. He didn't want to hurt her, he was simply caught up in a storm of his own creation. He wanted to be so much dust in the cyclone, just blown about by the wind. Instead he was the storm, burning himself out to end the pain she was too young and ignorant to share, and so he blew himself out like a candle while she stood on the horizon, clutching her arms toward herself in a pseudo-hug, wishing he was there to hold her, still. He used to make he feel safe.  Now, she stands alone, feeling broken, and follows his memory into the darkness of his pain.

It is over quickly. She barely noticed the blade, feeling instead the relief that came with not being. She had only tried to be good. But, she was never enough. Never right. Now there are two ghosts, mere shades, gliding through the night with sad eyes.

A lifeless corpse, she laid there, smiling.
Death had come on soft wings
to bring her shelter from the pain.

Looking at her, all I could think was-
God, what beautiful bones.
Tears of envy rolled down my face
As I whispered a furtive goodbye.