the gift of mondays

she's gone. she's dead. she couldn't face the world anymore and so she chose to leave. it's been 2 years and no matter how hard i try, i can't let it go. no matter how hard i want to forget, the memory keeps coming back. no matter how much i don't want to cry, the tears keep coming. they won't stop. they catch me off guard. they sneak up on me. they make me remember. and i hate it. i hate the tears. i hate the remembering. i hate the knowing that i failed. i hate it all. but most of all i hate that she's dead. i hate that i can't see her. i hate that i can't help her. i hate that i can't talk her out of it. we sing a song in Church that always reminds me of her. "see His body, His blood, know that He has overcome, every trial we will face. and none too lost to be saved, none too broken or ashamed..."* and that's as far i as get. i can't sing past this point. because it feels like she was too los