And when I grow to be a poppy in the graveyard
I will send you all my love upon the breeze.
And if the breeze won’t blow your way, I will be the sun.
And if the sun won’t shine your way,
I will be the rain.
And if the rain won’t wash away all your aches and pains,
I will find some other way to tell you you’re okay.
This moment a year ago, I was in the library studying for an exam, making up ridiculous mnemonic devices to try and remember some stupid names of politicians or something that didn’t even matter. I knew I would wake up and bike to class the same way I did everyday. I knew I would cram into a lecture hall and fill bubbles to the best of my ability. I had no idea of the phone call, the disbelief, the gloomy sky, the tears that would prompt me to run out of class because I couldn’t hold myself together, the endless hugs from people whose bodies felt equally as fragile as my own, of the reaching out or the falling apart. I was completely unaware of the way everything can change in an instant, or how everything would change in an instant.