Wednesday, August 22, 2012


I ran through the cemetery today. It wasn't so much a conscious choice, but I was running and the shade of her trees provided a welcome reprieve from the sun. Her twisting path seemed like a nice alternative to the bustling street and the cars that kept pushing me off the shoulder. The gate was open and, for a cemetery, she seemed oddly inviting, comfortable, familiar.  

I ran through the cemetery today and your name stopped me dead in my tracks. It's not your name, and it's not your grave but it stung just the same. Harris, Johnson, Clark, Lewis, Parker, and then there it was. It grabbed me. The kind of sly, choking fear that sneaks up out of nowhere and sucker punches you, a grappling hook straight to the heart. It steals your breath and knocks the life out of your stride. It's not your grave, but I couldn't help but wonder what if. 

I ran through the cemetery today and it wasn't your name but it put your name in my head and in my heart. There may come a day when that's just the name of my daughter's playmate. Or it's just the name of the person who cuts my hair. Or just the name of the friendly person behind the counter. But for now, it's yours, and it stings like sand in my eyes.

I ran through the cemetery today.  
[iamge via]


  1. This is beautiful, Cait. The thought of losing someone you love is really overwhelming.



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