Eight Years

Eight years
Since I’ve barely felt whole

Eight years
Since he stuck the gun to his chest and pulled the trigger
Taking pieces of me with him up to heaven.

Eight years
I cried

Eight years
I clutched the sun as I battled the darkness

And now I know
That I can take the holes that are within me
The holes and pieces he took with him
I can fill them with seeds
And water them with love
And happiness
And hopes
And dreams

And they will grow
Into something far more beautiful than I could ever fathom

Eight years it took me to realize
That I can be a better me

Even if he.
Is not here.
Any longer.

*This was written on June 4th, 2021. Eight years after my best friend, a fire fighter, committed suicide. First Responder suicide rates have gone up over the years. If you or someone you love is struggling with suicidal ideations, consider calling the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255