Staring at the screen

I sat staring at the screen

I sat staring at the screen for a while. I wanted to write something brilliant and eloquent. But I just sat staring at the screen for a while. That's not like me. I usually have plenty to write about but today, I just sat staring at the screen. It feels so strange to be speechless. I think I am still in shock from the news that you are gone. Then I go into wordsmith mode and remind myself that gone is a grief-bearing euphemism. My seminary trained mind is trying to make sense of this but my human heart wants to put you in heaven with wings and a white robe and clouds...my sense of humor wants to imagine you taking the white robe off so you don't get bbq sauce, cigar ashes, and Crown Royal on it...it is Heaven, after all! I got the text in the middle of a class and I checked it immediately because it came from my sister and it wasn't during our regularly scheduled "hello" texting time frame. I was shocked...and my eyes welled up...and I was frozen in time and space for a moment. I was brought back by the words, "Miss Jones, are you okay?" I could only nod "no" and hope that my frown would squeeze those tears back into my tear ducts for just a little while longer. I did what you would expect me to do. I collected myself enough to tell a joke and redirect the energy for the moment. I had to shut my mind down to avoid the questions and irrational conclusions. I reached out to your oldest girl...who calls me Momma and sends me holiday text messages and I felt trapped in a helplessness that felt like a bubbling, gurgling tar pit that pulled me down and held me still up to my neck so that I couldn't even will my muscles to move. You know I think I'm pretty big and bad sometimes, but I couldn't stop the thoughts..."Didn't you just email me yesterday about my last blog entry?" "Didn't we just text and laugh about our MRI experiences on Monday?" "How..." And I had to stop myself again because (I'm a control freak and I don't do well with things that are bigger than me and...) this was not going to help me understand what had happened. I'm still expecting you to show up at my door with a Christmas tree...because you KNOW I'm not buying one and who says no to a 250 pound National Guardsman in uniform talking about, "Hey, I brought a Charlie Brown tree for you and Maya to decorate...and I went to the dollar store and bought some decorations because I know you don't have any. And I brought some Crown (for myself because you are so bourgie that you drink stuff I can't spell) so that I can laugh at you because I know your inner control freak won't allow the tree to just sit here." Then, of course, I'll order wings and roll my eyes because you are NOT THE BOSS OF ME!!! But you have been a friend to me when I needed one most. That's just who you are. You're the ultimate go-to guy and I know that innumerable hearts are broken today. I'm still working out my grief and figuring out how to be the go-to person for the girls...especially that big one who has a mama but calls me momma too. You've done a great job of leaving a legacy of love and laughter (hysterical, side splitting, tears rolling down faces laughter!) and I'm still sitting here staring at the screen...wondering if I should hold down the delete button and erase all of this...and then I realize that if I learned anything from you, it is to always be true to myself and what could be more true than writing...even if I'm writing about how I'm staring at the screen. I'm still working it all out in my mind but this is where I am...still shocked...still managing my grief...still staring at the screen...I'll see you, Spike!