In Memory of Sinead O'Connor

Restless, pacing, and licking her lips, she was having none of it. "And when exactly do I get to see him?" she blasted the gate attendant, who repeated their questions calmly. "If I could simply get your name; we always ask for the name ... " "Bugger off," she huffed, shaking the gate with her bare hands, calling louder and louder still. "We've got another legendary pain in the ass," someone said nearby (with a chuckle). "Clear a spot." She stared as they arrived, these blessed miscreants - these heavenly punks. "I'll be damned," she whispered. "Well, no, not this round, apparently," said Johnny or Joey (hard to tell). "You made it," Lou smirked. "That's the good news. The bad news is that you made it." "Hella boring," Kristen added, "apart from us, of course." It took a minute to see him - the boy in the back, standing at the rear of the group with tears in his eyes. "Gawd, just give him your name and come in already. Lame." And she did not hesitate to do as instructed; this time, there was joy in letting go, because everything was love at last and could be trusted.