Finally. A goodbye.

Today, we put my grandpa in the ground. I did. My dad and I knelt on the ground and lowered the small box of ashes into the ground.

I don't even know what to feel or think about that.

It was a four-hour trip to Pennsylvania. My dad drove, battling through the rain that threatened to invite danger.

Finally, we reached our destination. It was a little cemetery, with family buried there. We waited until my grandma, aunt, and cousins arrived.

Reluctantly, I walked over to the grave stones. There, in front of me stood the newest grave stone. Something in me gave.

It was my grandpa's.

It was a year ago, May 8, 2012. My grandpa died in a nursing home with all of us around. I'll never forget it. Or him. He loved me. He never cared about all the problems I gave him. He never cared about my past. He cared about now. That I was his grandson. That is why I never left him without his prayer.

I snapped back to reality when it was time to put the ashes into the ground. No one expected me to do this. To be honest, I was scared.

But I realized that this was the end. His ashes were all that remained in this world. This was the closest I would ever get to feeling his embrace again. No memory or dream would ever change that. He was gone and so was part of my heart.

I wanted to be strong. So strong. The day my grandpa died, I never cried. I saved it all, not wanting to give in.

But it hurt, as it did today. And for the first time, I am at a loss for words.

My sister said it well. She cried because she missed him.

"I don't want to say his name anymore," she sobbed.

My mom asked, "Who?"

Then my sister said, "The one I loved."

With that, the rain poured down.

I don’t know what else to say. It hurts. I hate it, because it controls me.

I guess that's what grief is; it is love's pained departure.

If possible, I would spend one more minute with him.


© 2013 Isaiah P. Henn, all rights reserved. 
Copyright notice: All content, including writings, artwork, photographs, or videos, posted on this blog is original to Isaiah Henn and the HennHouse unless otherwise stated and may not be reproduced without permission.

Love You Forever

Last night, I had a dream. It was a dream. I didn't pretend to believe it was real. I could feel it, and for the first time, I cried.

It was eleven o'clock at night and I had just finished preparing for the following morning. It felt good to be organized, for once. My eyes were heavy as I climbed into bed. Slowly, I fell into a deep sleep.

But while I slept, I learned so much.

In my dream, I was once again an innocent baby. I was in a dark room, scared of what lurked behind the shadowy walls. I cried, but no one answered. I cried again and still no answer. Just when baby Isaiah lost hope, I was in the hands of a woman.

She sang the most beautiful song that I ever heard. 

I'll love you forever.

I'll like you for always.

As long as I'm living

My baby you'll be."

Baby Isaiah instantly stopped crying. I knew that song. I looked into the eyes of the woman. I recognized her: my mom! The one who adopted me, was holding me now.

I woke up with tears on my face. I felt... happy. My mom, my real mom, the one who told me jokes, sang to me and read me books, held me. Then I remembered the song in my dream. It's from the book that my mom read to me when I was little. The book is called Love You Forever. In the book, a baby is born. His mom held him and sang the song from my dream. The boy grows up, and yet the mother still goes into his room every night and sings him the song.

Eventually the boy is a man, and has a child. He sings the song that his mother sang to him.

My mom tries so hard to make me happy. She regrets never being able to rock me. Today, I guess, I wished I had that chance. I wish now, that I had made the most of every day great for her.

I found that book this morning. When I finished reading it, I flipped to the first page. My mom inscribed it to me eight years ago. This is what it said:

My sweet Isaiah-
 Sometimes there doesn't need to be any occasion to give a gift when you're giving part of your heart. That's what this book is- a special message to you from me. Just remember that there isn't a single moment of a single day that I don't love you forever. Because I do. I love you forever.
                                                                                                                        Love Mommy.
                                                                                                                        May 14, 2005

One day, when I have my first child, I will remember everything my mom did for me. I love you mom, I truly do.

And I'll never forget that you'll love me forever and you'll like me for always. And as long as you're living, I'll always be your baby.

For once, I can't help but feel happy.

                                                                         

© 2013 Isaiah P. Henn, all rights reserved. 
Copyright notice: All content, including writings, artwork, photographs, or videos, posted on this blog is original to Isaiah Henn and the HennHouse unless otherwise stated and may not be reproduced without permission.

Painful photos from the past

Today was no different from every other day. I woke up. I ate. I went through the motions. My family went through stacks of papers and binders that were piled in the garage.

My dad left for work, so I brought in boxes and containers with papers inside of them. My mom and I went through the stacks, looking at pictures and adoption material.

There were my dad's work papers and anything else people could dream up.

That's when we ran into my old life's pictures.

In the stack, were pictures of my birth mom, birth sister, old family. On the back of most, there were captions, telling me who each person was. On a few of the pictures, there were letters, to me. I felt as if I had been slapped in the face.

I never wanted to be reminded of my past. But every day I am reminded.

Every day, someone else wants to know what happened to my birth mom, and every day I tell them, I don't know and I don't care.

But today, I was reminded that all my ignorance, was a lie. I do care. Even when I want to hide it. It rips me apart inside, just to know what she did with her life after I left.

I am scared.

Will the answer be good? Do I even truly care? Sometimes I feel guilty. The parents that I have, love me. They do everything they can just for  me. And all I think about, is the life that was taken from me.

I am angry.

I should have never looked at those pictures. To think, I will turn 18 next year. I will be an adult. An adult, that gets angry every time he hears his birth mom's name.

I am hurt.

Nothing will ever change that. I can not express my pain. I can only do it in the best place and way I know how: In my home, written in words.

I am torn.
That memories and pictures could so easily inflict wounds.

That is all I have to say.

I won't look to make it right. That won't change what I feel or believe. I only hope that she has changed her life.

And that every memory hurts her as much as it does for me.




© 2013 Isaiah P. Henn, all rights reserved. 
Copyright notice: All content, including writings, artwork, photographs, or videos, posted on this blog is original to Isaiah Henn and the HennHouse unless otherwise stated and may not be reproduced without permission.