You Live On: A poem for Brandy Thuernagle

 

On Wednesday, July 17, I celebrated the life of Brandy Thuernagle, a sister in recovery.  This is the poem I read for her service.  As I was writing this, I didn't realize how close we really were, how well I knew her, how much our lives mirrored each other.  This poem was a way of working through my own grief. It is said people are in our lives for a reason.  Perhaps Brandy was in my life to show me how to cherish and capture the blessings we have before it is too late.  To hold on to sobriety and grab on to the opportunities it offers as they come along. To all of those in my life that make it better, thank you. And to all of those who came along that gave me lessons and left, thank you. I am grateful for all the love I have to give. 

Brandy, I loved you. Loved you like a sister.  May your memory live on. 

You Live On

 --For Brandy, with love

 

It is a Wednesday as I write this.
You died only a few days ago.
Now whenever someone speaks your name,
there is silence.
That isn’t like you,
to leave something unsaid,
something unexplained,
to let me get a word spoken in response,
more than a sentence said in reply
during the hour we’d spend together.

 Now I’ll be walking
the blue raised 3-lane track at the Y
in silence for good,
with only my tinnitus
and the plodding of my steps for company.
No one to push me, tell me I’m walking too slow,
talk in my ear rushed emphatic words
of seemingly mundane everyday things—
parts of life in small detail.

Now the two sobriety chips you gave me
to hold until you get better
will go unearned, will clink together
and sit on my shelf, ownerless.

You struggled so hard
to smooth your rough edges
and work away your pain;
there is a solace in knowing
your struggle is finally over,
that now you no longer
fight your demons.

Today tears fall at work
so I have to walk to the pond
beyond our building
to hear the bullfrogs talk to each other,
and there’s this small black birdup on the wire following me.
She won’t keep quiet,
keeps chirping in what sounds like
But but but see
and flies above me the entire time,
hopping from wire to wire above me,
calling out “But but but see”,
never letting go of her call,
never keeping silent.
Seems you’ve sent a message,
kept me company out here afterwards
after all.

Tonight I will sit on my steps
in the backyard beside potted plants,
and notice that, where a squirrel
had unearthed and broken a
hackberry seedling, leaving a mere twig
in soil, there now grows a new
small green leaf: new life.
Where death seemed certain,
life appeared.

And I know when I look at your daughter—
though you are gone, your love shines
through her eyes.
Where death seems certain,
you live on.

You live on,
in the chips we give each other for sobriety,
in the birds that sing,
in the plants that send out new leaves,
in the eyes of your daughter.

You live on because we do,
because we remember you.

May God call your spirit home.
May you finally rest.
You were loved, my friend.
You were loved, and you live on.

 

*****

by Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle Paschold
aka Julie S. Paschold
author of Horizons & You Have Always Been Here

 

July 10, 2024