Jasmine Mann
Scribbles and Tidbits

The visitation and the funeral were perfect. Aside from the family drama, everything went well. It was a beautiful day: sunny and clear. He would have wanted it that way.

My brother and I spoke at his funeral, as well as my stepmom's mother. I tried not to cry when I spoke, but I couldn't hold them back. I'm not even sure anyone could understand me. I spoke of all the times he would wake me up in the mornings as a little girl and say, "Jasmine, wake up. The sun is shining and the birds are singing." I said that the birds are still singing and the sun is still shining and to never forget that. And I wanted to let everyone know that he's not gone. He's not gone.

Part of me is pissed off that he had to leave. Part of me is happy for him because he's no longer in pain. He is being cremated, I think in part as my stepmom put it "to burn all that damn cancer away." But he fought to the end, and he died gracefully.

I'm going to miss you, daddy. I'll never forget you. I'll never forget the things you taught me or the good times we had together. And I just want you to know that I love you so much.

I love you, daddy.

In Loving Memory
Eugene James Sword
October 29, 1955 - January 5, 2008

i.
scratched epitaphs,
silent in the breeze.

and taking my hand,
i'll trace your name,
carve a place underneath my skin
that will still bleed.

ii.
all that i am
and all that i have become:
a faceless name in a crowd;
you and i are the same,
immoveable.
(and even granite
no less as stoic)

iii.
years will pass
(but i will still find
your face)

with shaking hands,
i'll trace words
into the fibers of
your patchwork silk:

"i love you,
daddy".