Status: Complete.
Fragments
1/1.
My memory of you is like an old puzzle to which many pieces have long since gone missing, most of which belong in the center of the picture, leaving me with the little details portrayed in the edges. I don't remember important things about you; your face is blurry in my mind, and your voice is a tune I cannot name. Although we are related, I know so little about you, and I feel that I'll never get to know.
You're gone. You've been gone for so long, and no one knows where you are. Are you safe? Are you okay? Are you happy? Can you hear me?
The edges of the puzzle, that is what is left of you. There are fragments of memories, scattered around randomly. A fake Sports Illustrated cover of me you made when I played soccer; lunch at Olive Garden; your cat, Buster. They don't add up, none of the pieces fit together, and I can't see the full picture.
A few center pieces are left, like your slideshow of Grandma at her retirement party, and recording songs with you and my sister. Fragments of the picture, and yet I still can't see it.
Do you remember sitting in the living room, each of us with a guitar draped across our laps? You were teaching me how to play. I remember your astonished face at how fast I caught on. A center piece, the most important one, collects dust in the corner. Are you still playing? I'm sorry that I haven't played since then. I messed up the tuning. I'm sorry, are you mad?
Why did you leave? What is out there that you couldn't find here, with us? Did you find it? When are you coming back?
Your sister cries. Your mom grieves. Your dad worries. I'm scared. Is everything okay? We're waiting for you. We miss you.
Please come back. Please come home. I'm tired of these fragments, they tell me nothing. Bring back the pieces you've taken, let me see the full picture. Where are you? Why haven't you come home yet? We miss you. We love you. We're calling you.
Can you hear us up there?
You're gone. You've been gone for so long, and no one knows where you are. Are you safe? Are you okay? Are you happy? Can you hear me?
The edges of the puzzle, that is what is left of you. There are fragments of memories, scattered around randomly. A fake Sports Illustrated cover of me you made when I played soccer; lunch at Olive Garden; your cat, Buster. They don't add up, none of the pieces fit together, and I can't see the full picture.
A few center pieces are left, like your slideshow of Grandma at her retirement party, and recording songs with you and my sister. Fragments of the picture, and yet I still can't see it.
Do you remember sitting in the living room, each of us with a guitar draped across our laps? You were teaching me how to play. I remember your astonished face at how fast I caught on. A center piece, the most important one, collects dust in the corner. Are you still playing? I'm sorry that I haven't played since then. I messed up the tuning. I'm sorry, are you mad?
Why did you leave? What is out there that you couldn't find here, with us? Did you find it? When are you coming back?
Your sister cries. Your mom grieves. Your dad worries. I'm scared. Is everything okay? We're waiting for you. We miss you.
Please come back. Please come home. I'm tired of these fragments, they tell me nothing. Bring back the pieces you've taken, let me see the full picture. Where are you? Why haven't you come home yet? We miss you. We love you. We're calling you.
Can you hear us up there?
♠ ♠ ♠
I wrote this about my uncle, who left years ago to San Francisco to I guess "find himself". Communication between us died off, and now we never really hear from him. We're friends on Facebook, and sometimes he posts pictures, but I can't tell you the last time I talked to him.Anyway, it's not really a story, and it's not really a poem. It's more of a rant, just something I had to get off my chest.