Daily Archives: April 4, 2016

Might want to take a pass on this one

It happened as gently as it could

He fell asleep, and just didn’t wake up again

No traumatic exit 

No pain, just release from this world he didn’t understand,

that didn’t understand him.

I found him in the morning,

long after those final breaths

Not in the dead of night

When the family and friends who gathered around us

Never could have done so.

We had a full night’s sleep,

and a full day to process what we could before

everyone left us, in this house far too quiet.


He was gone before life could spiral out of control again

When he left, everyone still loved him

He was our sweet, brilliant, lovable Christofer

Roostafee, gladiator, protector, goofball.

It was hard to love the person he became

when the demons gnawed their way out from that place he tethered them.

When the thoughts and thoughts and thoughts just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

When turning off completely was the only way to get some relief.

(He blamed the leg, but it was so much more than that.)

He died at home, the place he loved the most

Not somewhere full of strangers who would run before they helped.

He didn’t slowly sink to the worst gates of hell

but skipped to the brighter oblivion

What I want to believe has little bearing on whatever truth exists.

Whether there is something more or no such thing at all,

He’s free.


He died the best version of himself.

He left behind love, and people shocked

to learn he fought so hard to be that best version of himself

to be the man they knew.

The scientist. The inventor. The gym bro.

The guy who bought groceries for the old lady

who couldn’t get out herself. The brilliant mind.

Such a gift. One that came with

sharp barbs and snagging hooks.


He didn’t mean to go, but he didn’t want to stay.

Carrying infinity around inside was just too big a job

for a single body, a single mind, the limitations of both.

The pain without was just a tiny echo of the one within that bounced

ear to ear,

all the time.


There is no what if,  this happened, and

it did so as gently as it could.

It left us best able to cope and I can’t help believing

He orchestrated it somehow.

Because something inside him always knew

We’d say goodbye to him before he had to say goodbye to us.

(It was the only pain he believed he couldn’t face.)

And if we’re some form of energy that thinks and knows and has been here before

He thought and he knew and he planned it the best way he could.


Filed under poetry