All Roads Lead to Death

We are born.

Our births are the result of actions and choices made by our mothers and fathers during the course of their lives.

We grow into kids.

To grab the bubblegum at the counter and stick it in my pocket or not to grab the bubblegum?

Even as kids, we are forced to make many decisions…each obstacle is a fork in the road and your decisions will determine whether you go right or left.

We become teenagers.

To take a puff of that cigarette or not to take a puff?

Another fork in the road.

If I took the puff I would go left at the fork. If my friend resisted, they would go right.

Different roads.

We mature into young adults.

Do I take this job or that one?

Am I ready to get married?

So many forks in the road.

We become “grown ups”.

Do I let my child stay the night with her friend?

Do I take the job and move my entire family?

Big decisions.

Finally we are senior citizens.

Should I write my will now…just in case?

Move in with my children or into a nursing home?

More big decisions.

We die.

The end of the road.

No matter the choices I made and the choices you made, we both are on the same road at the end of our lives.

There is one more fork in the road though.

The last fork is where we either go to Heaven or Hell.

Left or right.

Unfortunately, at this fork we do not get to make anymore decisions that will determine whether we go left or right.

Our destination at this fork is determined by all of the other forks we faced while we were alive.

The choices we made at each fork…left or right…good or bad…kindness or anger…forgive or grudge…give in to temptation or resist…honesty or lies…

Which way will you go when you reach your very last fork in the road? You don’t get to choose when you get to it. The choices you make today could be your last…will you go left or right?

Think about it.


A Life To Endure

In this world of pain and chaos

There’s only one thing I know to be true

No matter how hard life gets

I will be ok because absolutely nothing can compare to losing you

No disappointment or betrayal will ever devastate me again

Because I know the pain of losing my little sister, my best friend

The day you died I lost half of my soul

I am no longer the me I used to be, I am no longer whole

Your death has left me broken, there’s no doubt about that

And the only remedy would be for you to come back

It wasn’t your choice to leave so soon

But I will spend my life forever missing you

Children grow up knowing that someday their parents will go

But siblings are meant to have each other and together grow old

At only nineteen, your future was stolen

And I must fight each day not to be angry and sullen

I now understand that this life isn’t about being happy and having fun

But rather it’s about spending each day with our eyes on the Son

Little sister, I miss you more than any words can describe

I can’t help but wonder if this is what God felt the day that Jesus died

It’s different of course because when Jesus died he got to see his Father right then

But rather than bringing us together, your death has separated us until the end

Although it seems unfair I try to remember

That before being reunited, God had to watch his Son endure a life and death being tortured by sinners

For Jesus, death delivered him from pain

But his death was for us, it wasn’t in vain

Jesus was tormented, his body was beyond recognition

But his brutal death meant that he had completed his mission

So although I must hurt every day knowing that my little sister has died

I will continue to endure because I have been promised that we will be together again when we meet in the sky

Love is a Villain

You are a thief,

Yet you are a giver.

You bring grief

And make many grow bitter.

You are often the giver of joy and laughter

But then you turn dark and you steal someone’s ever after.

Some days you are a synical monster who takes lives in the most gruesome of ways.

Other days you are nostalgic and you allow some to live long until the peaceful end of their days.

When we are young and naive you tell us lies that you will some day deliver all of our hopes and dreams.

As we grow older and wiser your hidden plan is revealed and it is then that we realize the only thing you will deliver is the end of all things.

Am I me, or am I you?

Who am I?

Well, who are you?

Am I me?

Or am I you?

Why don’t you tell me what you want me to be?

So you want me to be this? Well I can be that too.

You see, I can be most anything.

I can be black or I can be blue.

I will learn what you find most appealing

Then I will become that and make you believe it is true.

So, who am I? What is my identity?

I am only this version of me when I’m around you.

The Hickory Tree

A hickory tree sprouting out of the ground.

A new baby tree, it’s strength still waiting to be found.

This hickory tree continued to grow.

Stronger and taller alongside of the road.

Years and days passed as the Hickory continued to thrive,

Monitoring the safety of all who drove by.

This Hickory took pride in protecting those who passed under his shade

He rather enjoyed his duty of protecting both night and day.

But then one day the Hickory began to feel weak.

He knew it was the help of humans that he must seek.

For days and months the Hickory tried to get our attention.

But the leaning Hickory was rarely a topic of mention. 

He tried and tried with all his might 

To let us know that he was losing his fight.

The Hickory leaned further towards the road he once protected,

He knew he would inevitably cause harm if his poor condition continued to be neglected.

The Hickory wept because he knew the end was near

And falling on a driver was what he most feared.

Then one night the Hickory’s fear came true…

He lost his rooting and landed on a car as it was passing through.

That night proved fatal for not only the tree,

But also for the driver, a brown-haired girl who was only nineteen.

The seventy-foot Hickory crashed right through her windshield.

All of her hopes and dreams shattered, never to be fulfilled. 

Such a beautiful life, stolen right there and then

Leaving so many hearts broken, never to mend. 

An accident they called it, and a bizarre one at that 

But it could have been prevented, and that’s a fact. 

The Hickory tried so hard to seek help

But he was ignored until the night that he fell.

Day after day he leaned over the road

Trying to get help from those who drove below.

But no one stopped to notice the sick Hickory,

So now my sister is dead…killed by a falling tree.

The pain of missing her is greater than any word can describe

And we will be tortured with this pain for the remainder of our lives.

So here we are, just trying to make sense

Of this excruciatingly painful turn of events.

This story may seem too unlikely to be true,

But it happened to my sister and it could happen to you.

Now that you’ve read this story through to the end,

I will leave you with some advice, please share it with friends.

The next time you see a tree leaning toward the road,

Just think of this story and remember that trees too can grow weak and old. 

So do something about the next sick tree that you pass,

Because if it were to fall, then this day could be your last.

In memory of my amazing Kacy. I’ll be missing you.

Love, your big sister.

Dark stains on the asphalt.

At the scene of your death

There is still some evidence left.

When they took your mangled body out of the car

They laid you on the ground because the beating had already ceased from your heart. 

So there on the asphalt your lifeless body laid

And there on the asphalt a blood stain still remains.

So now when I drive down the road and see dark stains in my path

I can’t help but wonder if those too are stains of a life that was taken too fast.

For the sake of possible survivors I say a quick prayer

Because I know all too well what it’s like to feel the pain and emptiness of knowing that you were once there.

When I see your stain on the edge of the road

I can’t help but mourn the stolen pages of your life story that will never be told. 

So to all of you I have this to ask

When you see dark stains on the asphalt please take a moment to remember that any day could be your last.

I have this wound 

I have this wound that just won’t heal.

This wound is deep and exposed nerves I can feel.

I tend to this wound each and every day.

But no matter the treatment, this wound will never go away.

When in public, my wound I must conceal.

So I cover it with a bandage and pretend it’s not real.

But by the time I get home the bandage is soaked from seeping memories of you. 

So I remove the bandage and I am reminded that it is true. 

The day you died is when this wound appeared.

If not treated properly this wound will become infected, I fear.

This wound is not superficial, simply on the surface.

Rather it is deep and gaping, which makes me nervous.

This wound is unsightly, not a sight many others can stand to view.

But this is my wound, and it is this way because of how deeply I loved you.

So I will continue bandaging this wound, to hide it from others.

But each day when I return home I will remove the bandage and allow my memories of you to be uncovered.

They say time heals all wounds, but that just isn’t true.

So I will tend to this wound until again I can see you.