skonen_blades

And the fireworks turn out to be blood
And the limping isn’t faked
And the river that comes out of you is fatal
The surprise rescue doesn’t come
The third-act triumph doesn’t happen
But you are still a strong person
But you are still a good person
But you still did the right thing
Rewards are for children
Hardship is for adults
Merely surviving is the most we can hope for
Anything else is a bonus
Because every day is a challenge
You can do it
But it’s hard
You can do it
But it’s not easy
You can do it
And only you can do it
Even though community helps
Even though friends have your back
Even though fuel comes in many forms
You are the one that has to do it
And that is so hard
And if you can’t go forward, go sideways
Rivers go around rocks
And life is full of rocks
Metaphors can’t do life justice
But your struggle is noticed
And vital
No one wants you to fail




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The whole setting for her death was surreal. This was not entirely surprising considering her life. I was left staring at her lifeless body with the feeling that she had been collected, somehow. Like earth was a holding pen for souls in stasis and she’d been called back immediately for something important. Turned off like a light.

We were on the beach. It was her 22nd birthday. The sky had just darkened with the absence of the sun and then darkened even further with threatening storm clouds. We were waiting for the Canada Day fireworks to start.

I had met her several years before. She smashed through the windows of my life and tore me to shreds with her inability to slow down. She didn’t go through lovers so much as she exhausted them. She didn’t go through friends so much as she left them behind.

We were there, huddled on the beach. We were great friends at this point. I came running when she called and really, that’s all she ever asked of me. It had been a lovely sunny scorching day and now the fireworks were starting. This was in a small town by a lake. I wasn’t expecting much from the fireworks. I’d seen the Symphony of Fire in Vancouver and I knew this little town would not be able to compare. I would just lie on the beach with her and watch as they sent up a few sad fireworks and then applaud and we’d go. I was sitting, leaning back, while she lay across me, head in my lap and looking up, eyes wide in anticipation.

That was before the thunderstorm. We felt the first fat warm drops of rain as the first fireworks went up. The fireworks exploded and strobed the valley with green sickly light. The sky answered with sheet lightning that turned the whole sky white and bruised yellow and showed us what power really was. The storm built in intensity as the fireworks reached for a crescendo. The rain continued to merely patter but the storm itself was like God’s own wrath drawing breath to scream. The wind stayed calm. The fireworks were way better than I expected. Huge blooming incandescent flowers of beauty painted us green, blue, and gold. The booms of the fireworks would make us sigh with animal awe. Then the thunder would build, echo, draw close and shatter the world over our heads. It was like a bizarre competition was taking place and we weren’t even going to get a consolation prize. The intensity built. The wind started to pick up. The warm rain fell harder.

I looked down to share a smile with her just as some lightning and a firework burst went off at the same time. In the sudden clarity I saw her wide open rain-filled eyes and the thin stream of blood coming out of her nose. The darkness swallowed that image and the thunder pounded down my scream and the people around us applauded.

She had been told that she could die at anytime. The vessels in her brain were weak. She was on the cusp of having an embolism or a stroke twenty four hours a day.

I lay there huddled over her and crying while the fireworks climaxed. The storm broke and poured warm rain down in great gasping sheets over us. People on the beach ran in groups to their cars with blankets held over her heads. A middle aged couple asked us if we were all right. They called the ambulance.

Even in death, her timing was impeccable and severe. I have never met another person like her but I hear about similar people sometimes. Mythical larger than life people that have no idea how to take small bites out of life. Massive glowing swashbuckling pirate galleons with broken compasses that sail without knowing how to stop. Heading for disaster on sets of neon rails but sometimes avoiding it to become fascinating adults. Eating hammers, spitting nails. Seducing us all by not knowing to live within the limits. I wonder if I’ll ever meet another.


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