Keytomyheart

Welcome

to my blog.

I have just recently decided to use this blog for journal entries.

Today marks a year since my friend’s passing, so the next two pages are a tribute to him.

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This is the only set of pictures I have taken with him.

They were taken on my mom’s birthday, Jan. 2008.

Porter asked if I could hang out that night, and I said

of course… I just left out that it was my mom’s birthday.

But we had fun anyway, and he was a trooper when my

step dad decided to bust out the camera.

Thanks Porter!

no refunds, no exchanges

This is the ticket to the last performance Porter played with his band, that I was lucky enough to go to. I saved it, and I’m glad I did. You see, I only have a few pictures with Porter and so any other memory means so much to me. As I was looking at it the other day I read the words on it “no refunds, no exchanges.”

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I feel like that’s how it is with memories.

Each one of us has memory, but not one person has the same memory.

All of our memories are unique and we may like or dislike certain memories for different reasons, but no matter if it’s a happy or sad memory, we can’t exchange them or get a refund for them.

That’s okay though, just like my memory bowl passage, there’s a purpose for every memory.

It’s been a year since my friend Porter has passed away. There are so many good memories when he was alive. Sad memories now he is not here.

I keep this right next to the butterfly wings, and my front door. I always see it on my way out of the house everyday(:
That day I listened to Keane on repeat all day.
That day I couldn’t even talk because I cried instead.
That day your band played...

I keep this right next to the butterfly wings, and my front door. I always see it on my way out of the house everyday(:

That day I listened to Keane on repeat all day.

That day I couldn’t even talk because I cried instead.

That day your band played at Muse, and you were supposed to be there.

I remember sitting at the left side of the stage. We all sat. Listening.

I remember looking at the left side of the stage that I used to watch you play at, that was now empty. But I felt you there, even though I was starring at emptiness.

I got your band’s t-shirt afterward.

I will always cherish that shirt.

The words on it say;

ASK FOR THE FUTURE.

The name of your band.

I am glad your band decided on that name,

Because sometimes, I have to remember to do that.

I find myself wanting to be where you are.

But I have to remember I’m still at this part of life;

And I have to pass the test, just like everyone else.

I need to “ask for the future.”

I forget sometimes why I am here, and all I can think of is why I am not there.

You are doing so much great work, and I’ll be honest, I’d rather do that than be here.

Especially when you were a big part of my life and you aren’t here anymore.

So thanks for reminding me once again, to ask for the future.

Julius Caesar.

Written March 3rd, 2011

Rewind to my sixth grade year, which was 2004… I think?

Every year the sixth grade does a Shakespeare play.

This year we were to preform “Julius Caesar.”

I was cast as the soothsayer.

(I thinks it’s silly they called a fortune teller a “soothsayer.”

Because what they predict wasn’t always soothing.)

I had the famous line of “Beware the ides of March.”

Now, I don’t think I cursed anyone or anything,

for heaven sakes it was a sixth grade play,

with kids in homemade costumes,

and bad memorizing skills,

and soft voices,

and don’t even completely understand what half their lines mean!

But… I think back to when I was just a naive little girl, I didn’t know the dangers of the world.

I had no idea what was coming, especially the challenges in my life.

Like losing a close friend.

That I could feel a sorrow that could not be described.

I wish that I really was that soothsayer, that I could tell fortunes,

and see the future.

I know life can’t be that way though, because life isn’t fair.

Would I have done anything different if I could see the future?

No. Because the only way to change the heartache would have been not to build such a good friendship, and not to make memories.

And although it hurts, I wouldn’t give up my memories for anything in the world. They are such a treasure to me.

Someone once said,

“This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no one else can fit it.                             Why would I want them to?”

That is how I, and I’m pretty sure many others feel.

I also like this quote that was written on a headstone in Ireland. It reads;

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.”

I LOVE that. These are MY memories that no one could steal.

Love you Porter!

February 20, 2011

Porter,

I let you go today.

I have been asking you to visit me so much, and I know you have places to be and work to do.

I didn’t want to let you go.

But I knew I needed to.

I kind of quarreled with my mind.

I wasn’t ready.

But I don’t want to keep you from doing your work.

And I trust you, even more than I did here on Earth. (Which was a lot.)

I trust you that I will still be able to feel your presence.

I am sorry to burden you.

Thanks for visiting me last night,  that was a good dream.

I will always remember the questions you answered;

Transparent but near;

Not talking to, but communicating with…

It doesn’t seem real to me.

There are some day I accept it, and then other days it’s like finding out all over again.

I remember skipping down the street after your Murray show, hand in hand.

I knew that was a special moment the when it happened.

I had no idea you would be gone in a month, but I still knew it was a special moment.

And later that night when you dropped me off and I didn’t hug you goodbye….

The first step out of your car I regretted it, but ignored that feeling and didn’t turn around to go back for a hug, how foolish of me.

The day you died, I ignored the thought of you not going on a hike if I asked you not to. I didn’t think you would listen to me. I ignored the thought of you slipping.

Porter, the moment you told me you were going alone I was instantly worried. But just the thoughts were so hard to overcome that I pushed them out of my head.

How foolish that was, to not think of it, when I really should have thought of what would happen if I ignored those thoughts and something really did happen.

Something did happen, and we lost you. But I think it would have happened a different way, with people there or not. If you had gone or not.

We. miss. you. Porter. Fisher.

I love you very much and there is not one day that goes by without Porter in my mind and heart.

These are some lyrics I wrote, it sort of explains why my journal entries I wrote when Porter was still alive were so important to me. I wish I had the musical talent to put it with some melody.
Entry.
Words written not that long ago.
Seem to be so...

These are some lyrics I wrote, it sort of explains why my journal entries I wrote when Porter was still alive were so important to me. I wish I had the musical talent to put it with some melody.

Entry.

Words written not that long ago.

Seem to be so old.

Because in that ink

You were alive,

You were there.

You are living in that ink.

And forever you will be.

Those words are holding history,

That parchment holds life.

Visit my ink once again?

Alas, just memories will place

The form of words on a surface.

My surface will show others

Although this pen is deeper

Than the surface,

It scrapes our souls

Because in that ink

You were alive,

You were there.

You are living in that ink.

And forever you will be.

Happy Cookie.

Five steps out my front door is the Provo Bakery.

You know how people say you gain weight when you first move out…..? I’m doomed.

So, since I am a sugar addict, I am a regular at the bakery.

Today they were out of my favorites; glazed muffin tops and bran muffins.

What is a Katie supposed to do other than pick…

a sugar cookie.

The cookies were all decorated differently. The girl asked me which one I wanted.

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I chose this one.

As I left the bakery and pulled my sugar cookie out of the bag, right then I thought of your key.

The one that your mom got for you, with the smiley faces on it?

You showed it to me the day you got it, on our way to the park.

You were such a happy person, too.

As I ate the cookie, (after I took that picture.) I walked around downtown.                        Just as happy as can be.

Because it made me happy, to think of you being happy.

Torture in my own definition;
Being stuck in two different worlds, apart from a loved one. It could be a dear friend, a family member, just someone close.
The torture is that the only way you could willfully get there would be to break the rules, and end up in opposite of going where you wanted, where they are at. So you are stuck in the same old world waiting for the time you can go. In the meanwhile, suffering the heartache.

“Death is not the greatest of evils, it is worse to want to die, and not be able to.” -Sophocle

February 20, 2011

just some other thoughts.

I just miss you too much. I wish I could collect all of my memories of you, and find my favorite one, but I just can’t find one favorite.

I remember the smell of your car. Sort of a sweet scent. Just thinking of the smell of your car brings back so many good times. So many conversations in that car. Laughter, jokes, and signing. I never felt as calm, as I did in your car.

Sometimes, when I listen to Keane, I feel like I am in a whole other dimension. Where none of the worries of the world matter.

All I can think of is how badly I wish you were here. I would give anything just for one more time to see you… but then i think where you are and what you are doing. And then I wish I could travel to wherever you are and follow you, right now. I want to do that work. It sounds so much more divine than anything here. 

Some say time is measured differently where you are. I hope it isn’t long before I see you again.

I like it when you visit me. I feel a little less lonely. How come I cant be just in spirit too? That way I wouldn’t miss you.

I find my cheeks wet, time after time. It doesn’t get easier, the pain is still as deep as the first day. I have never cried more over a boy.

I wonder if you are too busy to miss anyone. I guess you can always visit them, so you don’t have to miss them. But we miss you, we miss you so very much.

What do we do? Without you here? I wonder if I tried going to your place, where you breathed your last breath, if I could find that same path home. 

I long for your hugs.

Your guitar. Your beautiful hands that played that guitar so perfectly, that I could listen to hours on end. I never got sick of your music, Porter. I wish I could still enjoy your personal concerts. 

I always knew there was something about you, something more special than others. I just didn’t know what it was until you left. You were so special because you didn’t need as much time as the rest of us.

Your kindness was so strong. You did things for me that others would never make an effort to do. But I know it’s because you cared. You know what matters in life. What a great example you are.

You also know how to find beauty in things. Not only beauty, but the positive side to every situation was visible in your eyes as well.

What a smile you had. And the laughter that chased after it. It could make anyone warm, on a shivery day.

These thoughts will never end. Just like eternity. It will just add until finally someday I will not be able to add on to it anymore,  and that will be the day I will finally get to hug you again.

February 17, 2010


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Wishing that you were still here… Wait, you still are.
Just not the here the way I wish you could be.

— February 2, 2011