I don't get it.
It's not the most eloquent way to put it...
But I don't get it.
Anna, at the young age of sixteen,
You didn't just die -
You were killed.
Your life was pulled out from underneath you.
Your last breath taken by the hands
Of a killer.
He plunged the knife into you,
Borrowing it in to your flesh,
Stopping the pure beat of your heart.
You didn't just die, Anna...
You were stolen.
And I don't get it.
I don't get that it happened to you.
You, who always had a smile on her face.
You, who used to get yourself into these crazy and awkward situations.
You, who had a laugh that could cheer up anyone.
You, who would always be the one cracking jokes.
You, who spoke with such a cute accent.
But now I will never hear that Texas drawl again.
Or hear your good humored jokes,
Or listen to your laugh float in the air,
Or follow you on your wild adventures
Or see that smile that I loved -
That we all loved-
So, so much.
I just don't get it.
None of it makes sense.
It's not real,
At least it shouldn't be.
I'm trying to find out what happened
But don't know how to search without stumbling.
Words like murdered, killed, slain
Or the phrase like left to die,
Just don't want to come to me.
I act as if I don't say it
It's not real.
Because death is so much more disbelieving when it's personal.
But it is real,
No matter what I don't say
Or search, or type.
It's real.
You're gone
And I'm never going to be able to see you again.
There isn't a hope or wish in the world
That could bring you back.
And I hate it.
I hate that there's nothing I can do.
Everyone says dying with regrets is bad,
But what about having someone fall before you
And regretting all the things
You can never do.
Anna,
I don't get it.
How could you be gone?
How could this be you?
How could anyone have the heart to take away your sweet life -
Your sweet, pure, too-short life.
How could anyone have the sick, twisted heart to stab you and leave you to die,
Alone,
In the woods.
Forever cold,
the blood that brought heat to your body no longer flowing.
Forever lost,
surrounded by the darkness of early morning
Of a day that you never got to see,
Because your eyes were glassing over
With the dim glaze of death.
Anna, it makes no sense.
You were slain,
left with the innocence
Of your youth.
Slaughtered
Before your prime.
Destroyed
Before you even had a chance
To taste what life had to offer.
Anna,
I don't have the phraseology,
The vocabulary,
To describe the grief
That surrounds your loss,
From myself and others.
I can try as I may,
I can go for words and words and words,
Page after page,
But I can never describe
How we miss you,
Or the longing desire we have for your revival.
You're gone now, Anna,
And the rest of us our stuck here,
Trying to pick up the pieces,
As we stand here in disbelief,
Repeating,
I don't get it.
Anna Hurd, 1996-2013,
You will be severely missed.
Rest in peace. |
Submission Name: I Don't Get It, Anna
