I only hope that when I’m gone, you’ll keep the place that I once remained warm. That’s all I could ever ask of you, because one day I’ll be going somewhere that even you can’t follow. But I’ve never really known how to give a proper goodbye, even if it’s a goodbye I’m not even sure I’ll ever have to give; I keep leaving little shards of myself in the words I write, and it makes leaving harder than it has to be. But leaving is always hard, especially when you don’t know where you’re headed, only what remains behind. But perhaps nothing will happen, and perhaps you’ll never have to read this, and I pray this is so. You know how I tend to worry more than I should. But in case something does go wrong, I just want to make sure you know that life is still out there.
Life is still out there even when bad things happen, and I know you’ve seen some of those bad things and I know they make you angry and sad. But those things can never define you—not really. Being human is tragic and frustrating, but it’s brilliant too, and I never want the cruelty you see make you think any different.
So fly, Blackbird. Fly and be proud and brave and happy as I know you are, and don’t you dare give up. Just fly, and maybe someday you’ll reach whatever heaven you believe in. Perhaps it’s behind silver gates, or maybe it’s just a warm, dark place where you close your eyes and know that everything is all right. Whatever and wherever heaven is, we’ll both get there some day, and I’ll see you soon.
art, writing (c) me