Prompt: Passport – 30 Min. of Writing

via Daily Prompt: Passport

The hustle and bustle of the blinding white room assault his already raw senses. Eyes squinting to keep out the light that seems to be coming from every which way, he shuffles forward behind a seemingly endless line.

“Passport,” a gruff voice intones from somewhere to his left.

Risking a wider glance, the man twists himself slightly toward it. “Excuse me?”

“Your passport, sir.” The disembodied person says a little softer, the edge gone.

“I …” The man pats his body, searching for anything that might be on him and comes up empty.

“No,” the entity slowly steps forward and it appears human except for the extremely large pearly white wings at his back, currently pressed into his frame.

The wings look like they are made of thick, ten inch feathers, that cascade down the length of the tall figure, the very tips brushing the floor. The curved cartilage of the top wingspan appears strong and unbreakable, and the man can’t help but stare in awe, reining in his desire to reach out and touch them.

“Am I … is this a dream?” He asks so softly he doubts the figure can hear him.

The entity before him takes a step forward and the aura around him engulfs the man, relaxing him immediately.

“No. You have died, sir. This is the receiving line for entrance into the best after party this side of the universe,” the angel jokes.

The man looks on stunned, his mind immediately reeling from the revelation and then quickly shifts to the other horrific truth. His family. His family has lost him and he has lost them. An ache begins in his chest and spreads outward, overwhelming him.

The second they enter his thoughts, he is whipped away and appears randomly in a room he recognizes well. It’s his bedroom at home and he is lying in the center of it. His face looks so serene as if he is only asleep, but the people around him are reacting quite differently.

His eldest daughter is bent over the side of the bed, tears streaming down her face as she repeats over and over, “I love you, Daddy. I love you so much. You have suffered enough, go in peace. I love you, I love you. I already miss you so much.”

His middle child, the one most like him, sits stoically at the edge of the bed beside her, holding his hand, whispering the same words.

His baby, the youngest of his three is lying alongside the man, hugging his body and crying so hard he gently rocks the bed.

The ache in his chest grows, and he turns to look for his wife, who is at the foot the bed, sobbing and speaking in their native tongue. Her loving words and pain seeming to travel through the veil and striking his heart full force, so harshly he actually gasps out loud.

A loud whoosh and he is back, standing before the angel, the male features softer. “There will be time for that, but now we must get you processed. I need your passport.”

The lump in his throat makes it difficult for him to speak, but the angel notes the confusion on his face and adds, “I must see your soul.”

“How .. how do I show you my soul?” The man’s raw emotion in every word.

“Just, open up. Let me in,” the angel prods.

The man’s eyes widen slightly as he feels the slight pressure all around him. At first he tenses up, but the words ring through him and he begins to let go. Let go of the shell that encases his soul.

A blinding light encompasses both of them, forcing the man to slowly close his eyes, a warmth beginning in his toes and working its way upward slowly until he feels like a star on fire.

“You lived a good life, Manuel. You honored your wife. You loved without question. You worked hard but took pleasure in the small things that mattered. You gave selflessly and reared three beautiful children with hearts that match your own. Your small sins have been greatly outweighed by your overabundance of virtues and you should be happy and proud of the life you lived, Manuel. Your children and wife will have a long road ahead of them, but you have given them the greatest gift they will ever need to battle their grief. Love. Unconditional and powerful. You can rest in peace that they will be okay, and one day … before you even realize it… you will see them again. You were and are loved.”

The angel steps forward and places a large hand upon Manuel’s forehead. Closing his eyes, the angel opens his magnificent wings and wraps them gently around the man known as Manuel.

The peace fills Manuel immediately, followed by that loving warmth. The angel whispers gently, “you can now rest in eternal peace, Manuel.”

(The above is dedicated to my father, who passed away June 9th, 2016 at 3:53 PM. I love you so much, and miss you every single day of my life. It hurts so much sometimes that you are not here by our sides. I do not think this ache will ever ebb away).

Tired of all the Feces

Some of the best writing comes from the deepest pain. Often I don’t know if I can truly express the agony warring inside of me, but then I just sit still and type, and a plethora of emotion comes out via my fingertips.

I don’t often share it. It’s too dark. Too deep. Too personal for the world to view and judge.

The world is good at that. Judging. Everyone sitting up high on their golden pedestal (myself included sometimes).

We have a lot of that going on right now with our current POTUS, and it is coming from all sides. Every side is slinging the shit across the line, hoping to hit their mark. And here is my judging moment: It’s sickening to see a world full of GROWN ASS ADULTS, many OLD and WISE enough to know better, acting like 2-year-old bratty children. POTUS included.

In a world with so much more going on, everyone is so focused on the dung at the bottom of the shoe, instead of just wiping it off on the grass and focusing on the crisis that is our world. Battling RACISM, HATRED, persecution of beliefs … and seriously we can get into space but we cannot figure out how to solve WORLD HUNGER? What is WRONG with us? What is WRONG with the people of this world that cannot take a step back or jump down from their mighty pedestal and say … wow, I could be a better human today.

It doesn’t have to be huge. It can be as simple as a, “Thank you” or holding the door for someone you normally would just let close on their face. Something as easy as letting someone who’s been sitting at a stop sign for twenty minutes looking for a break to get in, cut you off and not blare on the horn and throw your middle finger up. It could be making a small donation to charities that actually OFFER relief to those suffering (here are some that actually do what they claim to do). To those without a roof tonight. To those without a home. To those without a computer and unable to read all the barbaric and inhumane barbs constantly being expressed by grown ass adults (okay, maybe on this point, they are better off).

Stop throwing around statements like “fake news” as if it is a racial slur. We are living in a world with so much information at our fingertips. Stop being lazy and watching or reading only one or two news networks, and find out for yourself the TRUTH. Don’t just sit by blindly and believe all the hokum being said by someone of power JUST because they are in power. Then USE that information to actively, intelligently and in a USEFUL manner, fight against the hate, racism, world hunger, etc. Don’t just hop on the internet, load up Facebook or Twitter and just regurgitate the hate right back… how is that at ALL helpful?

Just … everyone GROW UP already and lets us be productive, effective, intelligent and HUMANE people. We can do it. It’s just one little step each day that you can to do to become that better HUMAN being.

Heartbreak

One of the harshest realizations is when you recognize that you mean absolutely nothing to someone who means the world to you… has been the world to you.

A call came through to me at almost 6PM yesterday. It may have been you, but I don’t know because I fumbled with my phone in my anxious nature, and accidently hit the volume button which immediately ended the call, which I am almost positive you felt was a slight and that I ended the call before it even began on purpose, but it is untrue.

And yet, this is life. One misunderstanding after another. One misinterpretation of what we believe are facts, but are just lines after lines of “Oops’s and Shit’s and Fuck did I do that’s”.

Moments of greatness or futures can be completely changed by the simple accidental press of a button. Had I answered, would we have fixed this and moved on happily ever after? Or would we still be on this path of self-destruction, taking all those around us with us? Each one of us blaming the other for the end of a ten-year friendship. Each one of us pointing the finger, without possibly knowing the full facts of the matter.

I feel lost without you, but now it has become a matter of pride. More than 32hrs have passed and not a single contact has been made. Am I really that easy to just let go of? Did I really matter that little? Perhaps you never really felt what you claim to have felt.

Heartbreak is never easy, especially when you think the other is going through it as well … but what if it is only you? Suffering in silence, breaking down in your own little world with no one to hear or care one iota. Does the heart not break a little louder?

Love + Loss

Random Thoughts/Missing Dad
I think one of the most difficult things in life is to love. It also happens to be one of the most beautiful and life altering.

It just sets you up for all kinds of pain… pain that I sometimes wonder… “Is it worth it?”

When they suffer, you suffer. When they hurt, you hurt. When they pass on, the grief is all consuming and heartbreakingly awful that it has made me (personally) question so much. Why? Why do we exist to love and care only to have it ripped away from us? Why are we even here? What’s the point of all the sorrow?

Sometimes I wonder if it is better to not love. To not be so utterly connected to someone, that when they are gone, a piece (sometimes a gigantic piece) of yourself, is gone with them and nothing can ever fill that void.

Then I think about all the wonderful memories I have of my dad. Of all the times he laughed. Of all moments he showed us how much he loved us (he wasn’t big on saying the words—like me). Of all the times he sacrificed his happiness for our own (and us for him, especially in the end) … and as overwhelming as his loss is … I cannot imagine not having those memories. I cannot imagine not loving my father like I love him and having his love in return.

It’s just so freaking hard. Not seeing him every day. Not hearing his voice on the other side of the line or face-to-face. Not making him laugh that beautiful laugh of his. Not being able to hold his hand or give him a hug even one more time. Not saying “I love you.” I thankfully have no regrets, and I don’t have to live with that feeling on top of everything. It’s just his LOSS is so deep… I feel it to the core, every single day of my life and I wonder if the ache will ever lessen.

Bad Drivers + No Sleep = FML Day

One of my biggest pet peeves is bad drivers. They are pretty much impossible to avoid and I count my blessings when I can make it to work and home without coming across one—it’s rare.

Well, I consider bad parking … bad driving. This morning I pull into work and not only has someone taken MY spot, but parked stupid crooked.

I love this spot because it’s huge. It’s the biggest slot in the parking lot, and there is grass on one side… so the chances of getting the doors dinged is lessened by 50%.

Not only did someone park in this spot … but they parked so crooked, their front bumper was right up against the line for the next spot (which was open and my usual second choice). This person drives a TINY Prius … (Don’t even get me started, because 99% of the time, my road rage includes a Prius).

I still parked in the spot because all the others were taken and really didn’t want to go across the street into the boonies (at night it’s pretty creepy and very poorly lit). But REALLY?! How inconsiderate do you have to be? You can clearly tell you’re all ass-backward crooked and you don’t fix yourself? It takes a minute MAX (which is still stretching it) to right the car. It’s just a dick-ass-move … and I know the person and they really are a b.i.t.c.h. so it’s not surprising.

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