5/28/19

Dear George,

It's been two years since you've left, though it feels like an eternity. I feel your absense daily. I miss you. I sat in the car today and realized you should be sitting there instead of me. You should be listening to the radio, laughing your head off with my brother. But you had to leave. You just had to.

I don't think a day has gone by that you have not crossed my mind. Your beautiful smile, your big heart, your fun laughter. I miss you everyday. I wonder what things would be like if you hadn't left this earth. You'd be happy as ever, glad to hop in my brother's car for the ride home. You'd roll the window down and let the breeze run across your face. I'd be sitting right behind you, feeling that breeze, too. Not thinking a thing about what it'd be like without you.

I miss your happy spirit that took a hold of the room. I miss your smile, greeting me as I got into the car. I miss your drama and the boys you'd talk about. I just can't comprehend really what happened. I can't understand that you crashed in an ATV and never came back. I just remember getting in the car that day, wanting to get in the back seat. But catching myself and sitting in the front seat–your seat.

I remember crying myself to sleep. I remember understanding what it's like to lose someone. Understanding what it's like to hurt. To hurt and not know what to do about it. Not knowing who to talk to, what to say, how to deal with myself, how to resume "normalty," how to come back to reality, how to stop the tears from pouring down my face, how to stop the pounding headaches that came with the grief. I remember missing you. I remember a hole. A hole where you should still be, Georgia.

I love you, I miss you, and I will always remember you, George.

Thank you for the memories,

Annika.

I’m floating

In the

Known.

All

Mine

Known

Familiar

Explored.

Everything I see

Is something

Comforting.

It’s my home.

The safety of

My walls.

The food

Cooking in the

Kitchen.

The soft

Music

Coming from the piano.

Until

I

Sink

Deeper.

It

Pulls

Swallows

Grasps

Captures

And

Tosses me

Into the

Unknown.

It’s the darkness.

The darkness

Swallows me

I don’t know

Where I am.

My home is

Gone.

Everything is different.

I’m

Lost

Helpless

In the

Dark.

But

Slowly

The light

It comes

I can see

It.

It grows

Swells

Expands

It gets

Closer

And closer.

Until I am

So close

I almost

Touch the soft blankets

Taste the fresh cookies

Smell the hot pancakes

Hear the music

I’m

Almost back

To my known

My home

My safety

My comfort.

But not

Close enough.

The darkness and

The light pull

At me

I can’t

Change

It.

I can’t

Affect

It.

I’m stuck

In between

The light

And

The dark.

May 30, 2017

Dear George,

Oh, how I miss you. Today has been hard. I have cried more than I have ever cried in my life. It’s just hard to accept that you are dead. You were having fun in Colorado. When tragedy struck. An ATV accident.

I was just talking to you. Just a few days ago. At the band concert. You told me that Bohemian Rhapsody would be the crowd pleaser. You played the trombone in the band. Everything was great. Happy. Wonderful.

Those days Jamie drove you home from school were fun. That first day I was annoyed at you because after every text you sent Jamie, you put the crying/laughing emoji. Ug. Now I’ll never see that again. Jamie’s car would come down the street. The passenger side window down all the way. Your arm sticking out, holding to the top of the car. It was like this every day. The radio would be on and you would tell us how much you loved the Chainsmokers.

Jamie should have driven you home today, but he didn’t. I should have seen Jamie’s car with the passenger side window rolled down. But you weren’t in the car. I didn’t say hello to you. I miss you. I want you to smile. I want you to be here. To grab the fruit snacks from the back of the car. To laugh and love your life.

It has begun to be normal for you to go home with us. Now it’s normal for you to be dead. Normal for us to never see you. Normal for us to miss you. Normal for us to mourn. I hate this new normal. I hate crying so much that my eyes hurt. That my temples hurt. I hate crying myself to sleep.

I will miss you, George Smits. Your freckles. Straight brown hair. I will miss how you ran your hands through your hair, how you spoke. I will miss you, George Smits.

It’s got me thinking: Why? How? Why does anyone have to die? Why so young? Why do I never get to see you again? Why are you dead, George? George, I miss you. I never realized how much of an impact you had on my life. Days with you were fun. It felt like an adventure. Now my days are filled with sadness.

I long to see you just one more time. I don’t believe it. I still think Jamie will come to pick me up tomorrow, and the window will be rolled down. I think I’ll see you again. Oh how I will miss you, so very much, George Smits.

My eyes hurt from crying. My temples hurt. All I want is to see you again. Say hi. Listen to you. See your texts. Your smile. I will remember you.

With much love,

Annika.

Oh gosh. Cooking. You know how Seamus Finnigan is with magic? Well, if you could translate that to the muggle world, you would understand how I cook. Yup; I blow things up. Literally. It only makes things worse that my sister is literally like the Hermione Granger of cooking.

I put the flour and the sugar together… and, wait for it… BOOM! How? It’s just sugar and flour! It seems I’ve got a black thumb for cooking. The kitchen is messy after the explosion, so I clean it up and, maybe make a mistake with this decision, try again. This time I put the flour into the sugar, instead of the other way around. Good! I haven’t made a mess of the kitchen again! I now gingerly put the cocoa powder into the bowl. Phew. I plop the butter in, still no sign of explosions. Then, my fatal mistake: the vanilla. I put one tinsy-tiny drop in the bowl and it lands on the butter. The second it makes contact it bubbles, and bubbles, and fizzes… Of course. BOOM. I am not amused. Stupid butter. At this point I give up. There is chocolate in my hair. Underneath my fingernails. On the other side of the living room. Ugh. I’ll never cook ever again.

But I really want some chocolate cake...

He doesn’t know.

Neither do his friends.

That’s the worst part.

He thinks everyone

Stresses out

Freaks out

Breaks down

Under pressure.

He thinks it’s normal.

He doesn’t realize that

Breaking down

Wastes time.

But that time is what’s so

Unimaginably

Important

Necessary

Vital

To him.

Time to get things done.

Time to have fun.

Time to relax.

But he doesn’t realize

That this isn’t okay.

Screaming

Tearing up

Breaking down

At the worry of time.

He doesn’t want to talk to anyone

Not a single person

About it.

The overreactions affect

His family members.

But he still won’t talk.

He keeps it bottled up.

Like it doesn’t exist.

Until it just spills out.

Out and out,

Like it will never stop.

And he doesn’t know

That his mother

Cries herself to sleep.

As she wonders

What she did wrong.

What she should’ve

Changed.

How she should’ve

Raised

Her son.

If he would just realize

That he

Wastes

So

Much

Time

Worrying.

Hours and hours

Weekly

Are spent

Exploding.

Like a seemingly dormant

Volcano.

He’s quiet and fine.

Until all the sudden

There is no stopping

This argument.

This discouragement.

The fear

The anger

The angst.

He destroys the people around him.

They break down.

But they can’t

Do a single thing.

He doesn’t know

How to get everything

Done.

He doesn’t know

How to stop wasting time.

He doesn’t know that

His future matters

And that his hard work

Now

Matters.

He thinks everyone’s

Got it all planned out.

They all know exactly what they’re doing.

And he doesn’t.

He thinks the world will end if

He doesn’t go to an

Expensive

Fancy

High-ranking

College.

His mother asks him

If he wants to apply to

Expensive

Fancy

High-ranking

Colleges.

And he screams.

He breaks the plastic hanger as it shatters

Into hundreds of pieces.

He slams the laptop closed.

He throws the laptop at the wall.

It’s broken now.

No, he doesn’t want to go there.

He doesn’t know what he wants.

But he thinks he needs to want something.

He doesn’t know that his little sister is afraid.

Afraid of what will happen.

Afraid of him lashing out at others.

Setting an earthquake on

A girlfriend,

A wife

A friend.

His rollercoaster will never end.

I’ve just got to hope

And stop crying myself to sleep

Waking up with red, puffy, painful eyes, and a splitting headache

Worrying myself in the morning

As my hands tremble while brushing my hair

As my lips quiver, waiting for the tears to come flooding again while I choose my clothes

Staying quiet,

All the time

Barely getting a word out at school

Seldom smiling

Seldom acknowledging anyone

Eating alone

Stealing food from the kitchen

And never coming out to see anyone

Hiding in my room

Curling up under my covers with the cat

Soothing myself with her soft fur before the fighting starts once again.

@Ghost_Herald

You come to a stop in the snow. Your red, white, and black Atomic cross-country skis quiet underneath you. Your arms rest on your long, skinny, black Rossignol poles. The sun is setting. The snow around you is pristine, untouched. You look out over the snowy field and see the setting sun has turned the snow golden and blue. Looking into the sky, you see massive, fluffy snowflakes floating ever so slowly down to Earth. You are mesmerized at the fact that these snowflakes haven’t a care in the world. They move slowly as if they are in slow motion.

The snow muffles all sounds to make it seemingly silent. You close your eyes and savor in the quiet, still moment. Your heart is warm, though the cold begins to bite at your fingertips and toes now that you have stopped moving. You hoped your warm, purple SmartWool socks would keep you warm but the cold still seeps through the wool. You can imagine your nose is turning pink. Exhaling deeply, you can see your breath in front of you.

You feel truly happy in this moment. The worries of the world slip away from you. They fall from your head along with the snowflakes. Nothing matters right now except the beauty of the snowy countryside around you.