Heather

I don’t like the idea of reincarnation.
The recycling of souls feels so inconsiderate to those grieving them.

I don’t like the idea that you went to someone else.

A new family shouldn’t get to love you like I did.
It’s unfair that they get to have you,
and I no longer can.

One day,
you’ll have new Walmart greeters
who will recognize your new face
and hug you whenever you enter the store.
You’ll act embarrassed,
but everyone will know you love the attention.
New bingo buddies
who you’ll gossip to your new husband about.
New grandkids
who you’ll teach to make meatloaf and boxed pastries.

You will love
with the same enveloping and unyielding love-
but for different people.
They won’t deserve you.
I didn’t either.
The thought of someone else having
and possibly taking for granted
something I ache for as much as your love
is something that upsets and angers me
more than I can express.

However,
reincarnation is the only afterlife I would ever wish for you,
so long as it means you got a second chance.

I hope you are born to loving parents,
who will never hold you back from your goals.
I hope you’re thousands of miles away from any future war.
I hope you never have to struggle to stay fed or safe.
The suffering you had become accustomed to,
I hope your new body will never come close to.

I hope
when you inevitably fall in love with art,
and create landscapes almost more breathtaking than the work of Mother Nature,
that it will be many more than only a select few who get to fall in love
with the ones you decide to share with the world.
I hope in twenty years
I’ll walk into a famous art museum
and see a gallery full of paintings suspiciously similar to the ones
that still hang above your dining table.

I hope you’ll become a veterinarian this time.
I hope you win the lottery this time.
I hope you live to one-hundred this time,
so you can have the blowout party
with male strippers and a mariachi band you had planned.
This time,
I hope you receive far more than you’re forced to give out.

I hope you’re still stubborn,
and I hope it still works to your advantage.
I hope life comes easy to you.

I hope that when you die again,
it will be peaceful,
and that those grieving you won’t have to feel the agonizing relief that your suffering is over.

I know you won’t remember me
in this new life of yours,
but I will always remember you
until the day I also move on.
And when that day comes,
if I’m able to choose my next life,

I will only choose one who is destined to be loved by you.

Dedicated to my late Grandmother