...From the van to the floor.
From backstage to the doctor.
From the earth to the morgue, morgue, morgue.
Well, tonight...
Well, tonight... will it ever come?
Spend the rest of your days rockin' out
Just for the dead.

It took me a while to remember what I was doing here. A month in palm Bay, another in Jacksonville, then back home. In the past 10 days, I've gone to the beach, the pool, barbecues and a pathetic excuse for a family reunion. But it wasn't until now that I remembered why I was really here. I came to Florida to finally say goodbye to one of the most important people in my life... even if it's almost two years too late.

To tell the truth, I was starting to like it here in Florida. I'd gotten over the urge to beg my mother to change my flight back to New York from September 4th to the next flight out of this joint. The air is cleaner here, the people nicer, the things to buy cheaper. I was starting to get used to the fact that I was to stay in this swampy, hurricane-magnet of a state for two months; a far overdue getaway from the life I live back home.

But, now, as the days pass and the clock ticks like a time bomb to the day I have to go see him... I grow more and more terrified. With each second that passes, the urge to call my mother grows stronger. Never in my life have I wanted to be home so badly. Because when I step into that cemetery, I know I'll break down. I know for a fact that I won't be able to see the headstone, with those dreaded dates and his name engraved on it.

I suppose I still haven't accepted his death, even after all this time. Though what can you expect; for me to be strong when I see the grave of my father-figure? For me to be able to keep it together when I see the burial place of the man who helped raise me? No, you couldn't possibly expect that of an adolescent girl. It would be absolutely foolish to do so.

The first time I saw him, I was a five month old baby, willing to trust the first person to show me kindness and comfort. The last time I saw him, I was an eleven year old child, on the brink of adolescence. The next time I see him, I'll be looking down at his grave, now a teenager, wishing he was here to watch me grow up like he promised he would. I still can't accept that fact that it will never happen. Eleven years with him was all I was allowed, and I will have to cherish those years for the rest of my life to feel as if it could happen.

In a few weeks, I'll have to face my biggest fear. For now, I suppose I'll just live my life happily, the way he would have wanted me to be. I won't beg my mother to fly me home, or text my friends pitifully telling them that I miss them more than they could possibly imagine. Until then, I'll smile as much as I can to show I'm not afraid to keep on living without the people who mean so much to me. Until then... who knows what will happen?




xoxo,
nadia[lexandra]