How to feel... Peace.

I just typed out this whole blog about death. 

I just typed out this whole blog about cemeteries and loss and life. 

And then I highlighted it and pressed backspace. 

I thought typing it would make me feel better.
Then I realized how shallow words feel right now. 

So then I thought erasing it would make me feel better.
Then I realized how badly I needed to post something, anything. 

So I'm typing this. 

And I don't have a lot to say. I already said it all in my post that I backspaced. 

I'm reminded of standing in front of a crowd of people. 

"For in this very room, there is enough love for all of us." 

I'm reminded of heartache and thoughts of an afterlife. 

I'm reminded of friends and love and the way people walk. 

I'm reminded of smells and laughter and moments shared. 

I'm reminded of life. 

And what it feels like to be alive. 

And what it feels like to realize someone isn't alive. 

I'm reminded how fleeting everything is. 

And how close we are to being in our Heavenly Father's arms again. 

For a moment I feel heartache for the people who are gone. 

My aunt. My grandpa. My dear friend. 

So many others. 

For a moment I feel loss. 

But then I feel...

Almost jealous. 

Not of death, I don't want to die. 

But of peace. 

Of being so close to our Father. 

Of understanding finally. 

Of being with loved ones once again. 

For a moment I feel sadness enter the room. 

And then for a much larger moment, I feel gratitude. 

Gratitude for the things I learn from others. 

The relationships I gain with others. 

The memories I have with others. 

I'm reminded of a plan. 

And I'm reminded of agreeing to said plan. 

Agreeing to heartache. 

Agreeing to trials. 

Agreeing to loss. 

Agreeing to life. 

I'm reminded of a plan.

And so I pray. 

Not for myself. This isn't my heartache this time. Not really.

But for my friends. 

For the people my heart refuses to forget. 

And for a moment, 

I feel peace. 

"Everything happens for a reason," they say. 

And for a moment...

I believe them. 

How to swing.

I'm in a swing.
It's raining harder than I can ever remember being in before. And I'm laughing and swinging. 

We're all laughing and swinging. 

It's cold. For a split second I think about how my hair must look now. I become angry that I spent so much time straightening it. But just as quickly as the anger comes, it goes. Because it's raining and I'm swinging. What else matters? 

He's pushing me and my friends are laughing all around me. 

This is perfect. 

This right here. This is perfect.

And it fades. 

I'm in a swing. 

I drop my snow cone cup to the ground and push off to begin swinging. 

I close my eyes and gradually swing faster and higher. 

I'm flying. 

I open my eyes and slow down and notice my friends laughing and smiling and spinning on ridiculous toys. 

And this is perfect. 

This right here. This is perfect. 

And it fades. 

I'm in a swing. 

Sadness is everywhere. 

It's pulsing from the left and right of me. But there's an odd feeling to it, too. 

Sadness is never purely sadness. 

There's a deep respect too. There's a deep understanding. There's a deep love. 

I'm in a swing and we are pouring our hearts out to each other. And just for a second, as I look up to the stars and offer advice and love, I feel like this is perfect. 

This right here. This is perfect. 

And it fades.

I'm in a swing. 

And everything is different. 

And this, this right here... This isn't perfect. 

Because there's no friends around with smiling faces. 

There's no laughter. 

There's no deep respect or understanding or love. 

There's just a girl on a swing. 

A girl on a swing who is stuck wondering where everyone else went.