i'm in a cave and i'm looking for light,
need to be saved by the one that i want tonight,
there is no other girl like her that i've seen before,
no other girl like her to which i am asking more.
and i can't can't can't stop this feeling.
and my heart can't can't keep concealing.
i've stolen you and you've stolen me to.
31 December 2009
29 December 2009
A wink amongst all else
i saw you turn around when you were walking.
you had just passed me by as you were talking to your friend.
and you looked at my eyes and you winked a little wink,
shared a little moment with me.
You shared youself for a moment with me.
That night I thought to myself 'where did that girl go?
What was she doing? What was she like?'
And I would never know, I'd never see you again.
Not on the streets, but just in my head.
you had just passed me by as you were talking to your friend.
and you looked at my eyes and you winked a little wink,
shared a little moment with me.
You shared youself for a moment with me.
That night I thought to myself 'where did that girl go?
What was she doing? What was she like?'
And I would never know, I'd never see you again.
Not on the streets, but just in my head.
28 December 2009
It's your 15 minutes of shame
what is fifteen minutes
in a life we are meant to have?
but in that fifteen minutes
i've gone cold.
It's not the most important thing i have noticed,
and doesn't speak of who you've been for me.
But in that fifteen minutes
it brought things to light.
The train wasn't late
and it wasn't that we were early.
I didn't want to miss it,
and you were too busy to stay.
How could you be too busy to stay?
And on that day we'd spoken
about how we were meant to live.
When the words we said had sunk in
I knew they didn't sink to deep.
When you walked away I dropped my head
and put my hands in my pockets.
You didn't look back not once to see me,
and so I waited alone and cold.
The train wasn't late
and it wasn't that we were early.
I didn't want to miss it,
and you were too busy to stay.
How could you be too busy to stay?
I held my ticket in my pocket
when I should have been holding your hand.
How could you be too busy to stay?
in a life we are meant to have?
but in that fifteen minutes
i've gone cold.
It's not the most important thing i have noticed,
and doesn't speak of who you've been for me.
But in that fifteen minutes
it brought things to light.
The train wasn't late
and it wasn't that we were early.
I didn't want to miss it,
and you were too busy to stay.
How could you be too busy to stay?
And on that day we'd spoken
about how we were meant to live.
When the words we said had sunk in
I knew they didn't sink to deep.
When you walked away I dropped my head
and put my hands in my pockets.
You didn't look back not once to see me,
and so I waited alone and cold.
The train wasn't late
and it wasn't that we were early.
I didn't want to miss it,
and you were too busy to stay.
How could you be too busy to stay?
I held my ticket in my pocket
when I should have been holding your hand.
How could you be too busy to stay?
25 December 2009
Home in a day.
a subtle lunch, subtle hello, a subtle smile, subtle kiss.
the people of this subtle town are suddenly amiss.
the poor star from this poor town poured down like a flame.
the poor people and poor families would never be the same.
lost folks of this lost moment have lost their will to fight.
they've lost some, and lost it all, lost their chances for life.
simple people have a wish.
they found the truth was untruthful, and in truth their town was gone. but the true part of this story, was no one truly wished it on.
i once passed this town, the people passed as quite sheik. now
time has passed and they pass their time being passively discreet.
simple people have a wish.
have a wish on the star that has fallen.
have a wish on the star that fell.
the people of this subtle town are suddenly amiss.
the poor star from this poor town poured down like a flame.
the poor people and poor families would never be the same.
lost folks of this lost moment have lost their will to fight.
they've lost some, and lost it all, lost their chances for life.
simple people have a wish.
they found the truth was untruthful, and in truth their town was gone. but the true part of this story, was no one truly wished it on.
i once passed this town, the people passed as quite sheik. now
time has passed and they pass their time being passively discreet.
simple people have a wish.
have a wish on the star that has fallen.
have a wish on the star that fell.
All my Mistakes
shooting all vicious
collections of words,
losers made facts by
the things they have heard,
and I've find myself trying hard
to defend them.
i made decisions
some right and some wrong,
and I've let some love go
i wish wasn't gone.
These things and more I wish I had not done,
but I have done.
But I can't go back,
and I don't want to,
because all my mistakes
have brought me to you.
I had some friends,
they don't know who i am.
so i write quotations
around the word 'friends'
but I have a couple
that have always been there for me.
And I missed some fun
because I've worked through the dawn,
expecting your praise
when I returned home,
but I paid the cost
because I got left all alone
for the songs.
But I can't go back,
and I don't want to
because all my mistakes
have brought me to you.
And i can't go back.
And I don't want to.
Because all my mistakes,
they have brought me to you.
The Brothers Avett
collections of words,
losers made facts by
the things they have heard,
and I've find myself trying hard
to defend them.
i made decisions
some right and some wrong,
and I've let some love go
i wish wasn't gone.
These things and more I wish I had not done,
but I have done.
But I can't go back,
and I don't want to,
because all my mistakes
have brought me to you.
I had some friends,
they don't know who i am.
so i write quotations
around the word 'friends'
but I have a couple
that have always been there for me.
And I missed some fun
because I've worked through the dawn,
expecting your praise
when I returned home,
but I paid the cost
because I got left all alone
for the songs.
But I can't go back,
and I don't want to
because all my mistakes
have brought me to you.
And i can't go back.
And I don't want to.
Because all my mistakes,
they have brought me to you.
The Brothers Avett
23 December 2009
Banning turns two
It was his second birthday. I had bought him a rocking horse. Nin said he was to young for a rocking horse, but I didn't think so. My boy was a strong boy. He was capable of anything at that age. He liked to hide shoes places, Nin and my shoes. We would find them all over the house. Sometimes I would find them on the book shelf, a good two feet higher than he could reach. I never found out how Banning actually made that happen. He was a little wizard, just a magical boy.
Nin had gifted him with a new pair of shoes and a educational shape box, the kind when you have to match up triangle with triangle, square with square, circle with circle. He didn't like the box, but he did like the shaped pieces. Nin was a little sad but I told her he would like the whole gift in time. "You just wait." I told her, "It will be his favorite toy in a month or two." That cheered her up a bit, until he started climbing all over the rocking horse with pleasure drool pouring down his chin.
He fell off twice in about three minutes so Nin declared it was unsafe for him, and she was going to put it away until he was ready. Banning started crying hysterically when Nin tried to take it away. I knew Nin didn't like being the bad guy, it's funny how the 'bad guy' can easily be translated to the caring, protective parent. So I stopped her, and I took it away from Banning. He wouldn't look at me for an hour after that, and when he did it was a terrible face to see. His eyes all squinting and mouth straight across. He new his angry face quite well.
I told Nin that since I had to take the rocking horse away, that I would like to be the one to give him his birthday cake, so maybe I could score some birthday points with him. He saw right through it. He liked the cake and all, but he knew I was still the same guy that took his rocking horse away. He was a smart little bugger.
Nin had to help him blow out his two little candles. Nin was a fan of number candles, you know if you're turning twenty five she would want a candle shaped like a two and one shaped like a five. Not me I would put twenty five different candles, there is just more to lick the cake off of after. So she let me put two candles in the cake instead of a number two candle. After Nin and he blew them out he stuck his hands right into the frosting and grabbed a big handful. Well, a big handful for his little hands. Banning was a mess by the time he was done with that cake, actually, when Nin thought he should be done with it. She didn't want him to spoil his appetite on sweets. She was a great mom.
That night I read him his favorite book. It was a book called 'Harold and the Purple Crayon'. I'm not sure why he liked it so much because he really didn't understand it at all, but I think he liked it because it was small. Bannings second favorite book was 'The Hungry Caterpillar' because he really liked bugs. He fell asleep leaning against me in his bed. Nin was at the door watching us. "I think he forgives you Dacklin." "I hope so. He looked pretty upset earlier." "Thank you for being the bad guy." "Thank you for being you."
I tucked Banning in. Put in his night light. I turned off the light to his room, and then I took his mother to bed. Nin fell asleep almost instantly. Birthdays are long days for moms. She rubbed her bare feet on my calves. She always had cold feet when she jumped into bed, and I always had warm legs to rub them on. It was a great day for a great family.
Nin had gifted him with a new pair of shoes and a educational shape box, the kind when you have to match up triangle with triangle, square with square, circle with circle. He didn't like the box, but he did like the shaped pieces. Nin was a little sad but I told her he would like the whole gift in time. "You just wait." I told her, "It will be his favorite toy in a month or two." That cheered her up a bit, until he started climbing all over the rocking horse with pleasure drool pouring down his chin.
He fell off twice in about three minutes so Nin declared it was unsafe for him, and she was going to put it away until he was ready. Banning started crying hysterically when Nin tried to take it away. I knew Nin didn't like being the bad guy, it's funny how the 'bad guy' can easily be translated to the caring, protective parent. So I stopped her, and I took it away from Banning. He wouldn't look at me for an hour after that, and when he did it was a terrible face to see. His eyes all squinting and mouth straight across. He new his angry face quite well.
I told Nin that since I had to take the rocking horse away, that I would like to be the one to give him his birthday cake, so maybe I could score some birthday points with him. He saw right through it. He liked the cake and all, but he knew I was still the same guy that took his rocking horse away. He was a smart little bugger.
Nin had to help him blow out his two little candles. Nin was a fan of number candles, you know if you're turning twenty five she would want a candle shaped like a two and one shaped like a five. Not me I would put twenty five different candles, there is just more to lick the cake off of after. So she let me put two candles in the cake instead of a number two candle. After Nin and he blew them out he stuck his hands right into the frosting and grabbed a big handful. Well, a big handful for his little hands. Banning was a mess by the time he was done with that cake, actually, when Nin thought he should be done with it. She didn't want him to spoil his appetite on sweets. She was a great mom.
That night I read him his favorite book. It was a book called 'Harold and the Purple Crayon'. I'm not sure why he liked it so much because he really didn't understand it at all, but I think he liked it because it was small. Bannings second favorite book was 'The Hungry Caterpillar' because he really liked bugs. He fell asleep leaning against me in his bed. Nin was at the door watching us. "I think he forgives you Dacklin." "I hope so. He looked pretty upset earlier." "Thank you for being the bad guy." "Thank you for being you."
I tucked Banning in. Put in his night light. I turned off the light to his room, and then I took his mother to bed. Nin fell asleep almost instantly. Birthdays are long days for moms. She rubbed her bare feet on my calves. She always had cold feet when she jumped into bed, and I always had warm legs to rub them on. It was a great day for a great family.
In memory.
The song begins. Focused on a tree swing.
There is a man. He is sitting at a bar with a half empty pint of beer on the bar in front of him. He is mostly sad. No. He is all sad. He puts his head on the bar. His hands are clenched above his head.
There is a girl. She is lovely. She wears black most of the time. She even wears black lipstick. Her fingernails are always pink. Bright pink.
They are together, when they were together. It was months. Love was full in both of them. They are holding hands and walking down a street. A street they walk down every evening. She is in black. He has slacks and a t-shirt on. With a winter hat with long ear flaps. She likes his hat.
He's back in the bar. His hands are still clenched above his head. He is still all sad. The barkeep taps the bar and wags his finger at him. The barkeep doesn't notice his tears.
The moon is no where to be seen. The stars are bright because of it. He's sitting on a rock. She is standing between his legs. They kiss hard. They are in a bedroom. There are three candles in the room. they kiss hard again.
Her ex boyfriend saw them kiss. He is jealous. Filled with it. He hates the man.
He steps up from the bar and turns to leave. He bumps into another bar patron, who drops his drink. The other man turns. Before he could apologize he is punched. He goes down. The pain was no match for his pain, but he stayed lying there for a few moments. He stands up and leaves.
She is sitting on the toilet. He is holding her hand when she sees the pink positive. She cries and smiles. He smiles. A good hug occurs.
He's on his knees in front of the grave stone. He has on black pants. He has on a black shirt. He has black lipstick on. He has on a pink tie. He cries. He has a gun in his hand.
She is lying on the street. The car is beside her. He is beside her. He's holding her hand when she dies.
He keeps two bullets in the chamber and spins it. He closes the chamber. He puts the gun to his head. Her picture is leaning on the grave. He pulls the trigger. Nothing.
He's on the ground next to the crib. He's bent and broken. One arm up on the crib. One hand on the floor. His head is not held high. He weeps.
He pulls the trigger again. Nothing. He shakes his head. He throws the gun behind him. He looks at the gravestone. He looks at her picture. He looks at the sun. He doesn't smile, but he wants to.
The figure behind him bends over and picks up the gun. Her ex-boyfriend puts it to his head. He closes his eyes. Her ex boyfriend pulls the trigger. Nothing. His eyes open. Her ex-boyfriend pulls the trigger for a second time. Everything. His head falls near her picture. There is blood on the picture.
It all fades out with her ex-boyfriend on a tree swing. The gun hanging low in his left hand. Her picture in his right.
The song ends in the fade out.
There is a man. He is sitting at a bar with a half empty pint of beer on the bar in front of him. He is mostly sad. No. He is all sad. He puts his head on the bar. His hands are clenched above his head.
There is a girl. She is lovely. She wears black most of the time. She even wears black lipstick. Her fingernails are always pink. Bright pink.
They are together, when they were together. It was months. Love was full in both of them. They are holding hands and walking down a street. A street they walk down every evening. She is in black. He has slacks and a t-shirt on. With a winter hat with long ear flaps. She likes his hat.
He's back in the bar. His hands are still clenched above his head. He is still all sad. The barkeep taps the bar and wags his finger at him. The barkeep doesn't notice his tears.
The moon is no where to be seen. The stars are bright because of it. He's sitting on a rock. She is standing between his legs. They kiss hard. They are in a bedroom. There are three candles in the room. they kiss hard again.
Her ex boyfriend saw them kiss. He is jealous. Filled with it. He hates the man.
He steps up from the bar and turns to leave. He bumps into another bar patron, who drops his drink. The other man turns. Before he could apologize he is punched. He goes down. The pain was no match for his pain, but he stayed lying there for a few moments. He stands up and leaves.
She is sitting on the toilet. He is holding her hand when she sees the pink positive. She cries and smiles. He smiles. A good hug occurs.
He's on his knees in front of the grave stone. He has on black pants. He has on a black shirt. He has black lipstick on. He has on a pink tie. He cries. He has a gun in his hand.
She is lying on the street. The car is beside her. He is beside her. He's holding her hand when she dies.
He keeps two bullets in the chamber and spins it. He closes the chamber. He puts the gun to his head. Her picture is leaning on the grave. He pulls the trigger. Nothing.
He's on the ground next to the crib. He's bent and broken. One arm up on the crib. One hand on the floor. His head is not held high. He weeps.
He pulls the trigger again. Nothing. He shakes his head. He throws the gun behind him. He looks at the gravestone. He looks at her picture. He looks at the sun. He doesn't smile, but he wants to.
The figure behind him bends over and picks up the gun. Her ex-boyfriend puts it to his head. He closes his eyes. Her ex boyfriend pulls the trigger. Nothing. His eyes open. Her ex-boyfriend pulls the trigger for a second time. Everything. His head falls near her picture. There is blood on the picture.
It all fades out with her ex-boyfriend on a tree swing. The gun hanging low in his left hand. Her picture in his right.
The song ends in the fade out.
December 22nd, 2009.
Well, it was a good day. Not one filled with anguish, not a sad day, no one I know died or told me they hated me. No one decided steal anything from me. So it was pleasant. I didn't wake up early, I haven't been lately. I'm not sure if I like or dislike the fact I've been sleeping in. I love the mornings. I love to see the sun rise and be busy before everyone else clears the sleep from their eyes. Not lately though, lately I've been starting my days later and later.
I could spend more time with my friends here if I woke up earlier. I could spend more time with Cat and her brother Dave. There should be no buts, but, there is a but, I get to spend time during the day and most nights with them. I think I'll start waking up earlier again though soon, so I can make the most of my time here, in a place I've always wanted to visit, with one of the best people in the world.
So, I woke up, and my computer said it was 11.30, which really meant it was 10.30, which is still a late start, not nearly as late as a few days before. That day after a brief morning wake up and after going outside for a breath of fresh air, I had a sip of Sangiovese, Cat forced me to have the last sip of makers Mark, and I fell back asleep until 1.00. I didn't get out of bed though till closer to five. I've been doing that a lot lately, waking up, but instead of getting up and being alive, I've been turning on my computer and just messing around for however long I want to. I guess it's my way to get in touch with friends, and keep in touch with people I want to keep in touch with.
After an hour or so of computer correspondence I decided I finally needed to make it to a post office because I have about 7 post cards to still send out. That didn't happen, there is always tomorrow, which was today, which I didn't do again. there is always tomorrow, even though more than 3/4 of post workers have gone on strike. Just before Christmas, deadly timing. So, Cat and I went for a drive to a beer brewing store. We purchased some stuff to make homemade beer and went back home. We made the brew, the first of two, and it is in the shed doing it's thing.
We then, Cat, Dave, and I made ourselves some delicious burritos, i had three myself and vegged out for a little while. Then we were off to a tab (gambling bar) to play some free pool, it's free there on Mondays and Tuesdays. Em, a very wonderful roommate came along for the fun. Dave and I were a pair, and Cat and Em were a pair, and a good one. They beat us three straight games, so we let them drink a few more pints. then Dave and I won four straight games to win 4 out of 7. But It started 2 out of 3 and then had to move to 3 out of 5, and then finished with the idea, Dave's idea, of 4 out of 7. And they thought they would get the better of us. I don't think so.
After pool, we returned to 32 Bradley Ave, the scene of living, and had a few more beers. Cat and Em decided to call it a night, but Dave and I were feeling a bit crazed so we started messing around a bit. Now if you haven't met Dave you should, he is one hell of a funny guy. A good guy as well. First he climbed on top of the hills hoist, that is a circular, metal clothes line, and I tried to convince him it would be a good idea to jump from it to the walnut tree because he would have a better view of Melbourne from the walnut tree. Actually now that I remember Cat was still there because she thought it not such a hot idea so Dave respectfully declined. So, we decided to climb up on the roof instead.
It took Dave a few moments to get himself stuck halfway (half of is body mind you) on the roof. I jumped up from a different spot and then dragged him the rest of the way on. We then traveled across the tin roof of the shed and onto the clay roof of the house. The tin roof was very noisy. We watched Melbourne for a little while and then we retreated back to ground level. But when I had just leaped from the roof to the lawn Cat's neighbor turned his lights on and came outside. I thought to be sneaky so I just lay flat on the lawn absolutely silent, and Dave did the same on the roof. Cat just stood there looking at us like we were idiots. We were. The only thing I got out of my sneaky lying down on the lawn was dirt marks on my shirt.
The night had begun for us, and ended for Cat. Dave and I decided it would be the best idea to go on a walk. And I'm telling you it was, for me at least, poor Dave just walked along listening to my blabbering about life and where I am in it. He makes for a good listener, and also gave some good advice. I think. We walked for a while and then came to a fence. Dave thought it best we climb over it. SO we did. then there was another fence. Again we conquered the metal beast. And there we were, on a golf course.
Dave guessed we were on the 15th green so he stole the flag and we walked up the next fairway to the next green. That is where I found my weapon, i mean my flag. And the stage was set. A thin sliver of a moon in the southern sky, an even battlefield of soft but firm grass, which made for excellent footing. The fencing match began. We fenced, and talked while fencing, for a while. I think we both won, or we both lost, but hell it was fun. We thought about bringing the flags back with us but then we thought Cat would probably not be pleased, neither would the golf course, and we would look a bit conspicuous walking the roads home with two big flags as walking sticks. We returned the flags and walked more of the course until we found another fence.
We scaled that fence and then found ourselves in a private neighborhood, what luck. We walked about until we found the entrance way and at the entrance way found a welcome sign. I picked it up and placed it on top of the rock gate entrance way so that people could see it better, you know from a higher place. Then Dave lead us on a round about walk back to the house. We found a giant warehouse of which we argued about if it was a fire station or a giant cleaning service for clothing. We pretended to break in through some windows until we figured out that we really could break in, so we continued to run a way like scared little kids for a while after that. Then I kicked a brick wall, which hurt my foot. And then we were back at the house. Good old 32 Bradley. Bedtime after that. A huge glass, or mug as I do it, of water and sweet dreams on a fine December 22nd, 2009.
I forgot to say this. Earlier in the day Cat, Dave, and I made an awesome video that is now on facebook if anyone is interested.
So I enjoyed my day. Dave laid on the lawn for the most part of the day trying not to die, and Cat and I watched some amazing old films from my childhood. Flight of the Navigator, and Mac and Me. I swear, anyone who is reading this should check those two movies out, they are PHENOMENAL.
Go back to your lives.
I could spend more time with my friends here if I woke up earlier. I could spend more time with Cat and her brother Dave. There should be no buts, but, there is a but, I get to spend time during the day and most nights with them. I think I'll start waking up earlier again though soon, so I can make the most of my time here, in a place I've always wanted to visit, with one of the best people in the world.
So, I woke up, and my computer said it was 11.30, which really meant it was 10.30, which is still a late start, not nearly as late as a few days before. That day after a brief morning wake up and after going outside for a breath of fresh air, I had a sip of Sangiovese, Cat forced me to have the last sip of makers Mark, and I fell back asleep until 1.00. I didn't get out of bed though till closer to five. I've been doing that a lot lately, waking up, but instead of getting up and being alive, I've been turning on my computer and just messing around for however long I want to. I guess it's my way to get in touch with friends, and keep in touch with people I want to keep in touch with.
After an hour or so of computer correspondence I decided I finally needed to make it to a post office because I have about 7 post cards to still send out. That didn't happen, there is always tomorrow, which was today, which I didn't do again. there is always tomorrow, even though more than 3/4 of post workers have gone on strike. Just before Christmas, deadly timing. So, Cat and I went for a drive to a beer brewing store. We purchased some stuff to make homemade beer and went back home. We made the brew, the first of two, and it is in the shed doing it's thing.
We then, Cat, Dave, and I made ourselves some delicious burritos, i had three myself and vegged out for a little while. Then we were off to a tab (gambling bar) to play some free pool, it's free there on Mondays and Tuesdays. Em, a very wonderful roommate came along for the fun. Dave and I were a pair, and Cat and Em were a pair, and a good one. They beat us three straight games, so we let them drink a few more pints. then Dave and I won four straight games to win 4 out of 7. But It started 2 out of 3 and then had to move to 3 out of 5, and then finished with the idea, Dave's idea, of 4 out of 7. And they thought they would get the better of us. I don't think so.
After pool, we returned to 32 Bradley Ave, the scene of living, and had a few more beers. Cat and Em decided to call it a night, but Dave and I were feeling a bit crazed so we started messing around a bit. Now if you haven't met Dave you should, he is one hell of a funny guy. A good guy as well. First he climbed on top of the hills hoist, that is a circular, metal clothes line, and I tried to convince him it would be a good idea to jump from it to the walnut tree because he would have a better view of Melbourne from the walnut tree. Actually now that I remember Cat was still there because she thought it not such a hot idea so Dave respectfully declined. So, we decided to climb up on the roof instead.
It took Dave a few moments to get himself stuck halfway (half of is body mind you) on the roof. I jumped up from a different spot and then dragged him the rest of the way on. We then traveled across the tin roof of the shed and onto the clay roof of the house. The tin roof was very noisy. We watched Melbourne for a little while and then we retreated back to ground level. But when I had just leaped from the roof to the lawn Cat's neighbor turned his lights on and came outside. I thought to be sneaky so I just lay flat on the lawn absolutely silent, and Dave did the same on the roof. Cat just stood there looking at us like we were idiots. We were. The only thing I got out of my sneaky lying down on the lawn was dirt marks on my shirt.
The night had begun for us, and ended for Cat. Dave and I decided it would be the best idea to go on a walk. And I'm telling you it was, for me at least, poor Dave just walked along listening to my blabbering about life and where I am in it. He makes for a good listener, and also gave some good advice. I think. We walked for a while and then came to a fence. Dave thought it best we climb over it. SO we did. then there was another fence. Again we conquered the metal beast. And there we were, on a golf course.
Dave guessed we were on the 15th green so he stole the flag and we walked up the next fairway to the next green. That is where I found my weapon, i mean my flag. And the stage was set. A thin sliver of a moon in the southern sky, an even battlefield of soft but firm grass, which made for excellent footing. The fencing match began. We fenced, and talked while fencing, for a while. I think we both won, or we both lost, but hell it was fun. We thought about bringing the flags back with us but then we thought Cat would probably not be pleased, neither would the golf course, and we would look a bit conspicuous walking the roads home with two big flags as walking sticks. We returned the flags and walked more of the course until we found another fence.
We scaled that fence and then found ourselves in a private neighborhood, what luck. We walked about until we found the entrance way and at the entrance way found a welcome sign. I picked it up and placed it on top of the rock gate entrance way so that people could see it better, you know from a higher place. Then Dave lead us on a round about walk back to the house. We found a giant warehouse of which we argued about if it was a fire station or a giant cleaning service for clothing. We pretended to break in through some windows until we figured out that we really could break in, so we continued to run a way like scared little kids for a while after that. Then I kicked a brick wall, which hurt my foot. And then we were back at the house. Good old 32 Bradley. Bedtime after that. A huge glass, or mug as I do it, of water and sweet dreams on a fine December 22nd, 2009.
I forgot to say this. Earlier in the day Cat, Dave, and I made an awesome video that is now on facebook if anyone is interested.
So I enjoyed my day. Dave laid on the lawn for the most part of the day trying not to die, and Cat and I watched some amazing old films from my childhood. Flight of the Navigator, and Mac and Me. I swear, anyone who is reading this should check those two movies out, they are PHENOMENAL.
Go back to your lives.
22 December 2009
As new as the truth.
I've left words out when I tell you
how much life that I could give you.
If you walk in front of me I could tell you you look so pretty,
And if you stop for me to see you,
I could tell you yes you're pretty.
I've waited a lifetime to let you know that
it's just you that heats my kettle.
I've given up on lying to you that you're
a girl that makes me whistle a song that i could hear
from now until the day I settle.
If I go sailing I'll need your wind girl
to take me from near to far.
This young gust you can give to me,
it will get us anywhere.
I hear you humming I hear you singing.
Is that a tune you wrote for every
time we've spent away from each other,
or every time we've spent subtly?
I see your face and sometimes see you crying,
those tears I hope they don't fall for me.
If I had to hurt you I'd start my dying
and nothing would stop me from my misery.
If I go sailing I'll need your wind girl
to take me from near to far.
This young gust you can give me,
it will get us anywhere.
I know your name I know your face girl,
it keeps me warm in times of struggle.
I've been waiting years to tell you
No one else could make me humble.
If I go sailing I'll need your wind girl
to take me from near to far.
This young gust you can give me,
it will get us anywhere.
Give me a fireplace to put you,
give me a chance so that I could show you,
any fire would burn much brighter
If you're a light then I'd be lighter,
than anything you could bring to me.
And any one that I can be
is just a man that's giving all he
has to give so please just have me.
If I go sailing I'll need your wind girl
to take me from near to far.
This young gust you can give me,
it will get us anywhere.
how much life that I could give you.
If you walk in front of me I could tell you you look so pretty,
And if you stop for me to see you,
I could tell you yes you're pretty.
I've waited a lifetime to let you know that
it's just you that heats my kettle.
I've given up on lying to you that you're
a girl that makes me whistle a song that i could hear
from now until the day I settle.
If I go sailing I'll need your wind girl
to take me from near to far.
This young gust you can give to me,
it will get us anywhere.
I hear you humming I hear you singing.
Is that a tune you wrote for every
time we've spent away from each other,
or every time we've spent subtly?
I see your face and sometimes see you crying,
those tears I hope they don't fall for me.
If I had to hurt you I'd start my dying
and nothing would stop me from my misery.
If I go sailing I'll need your wind girl
to take me from near to far.
This young gust you can give me,
it will get us anywhere.
I know your name I know your face girl,
it keeps me warm in times of struggle.
I've been waiting years to tell you
No one else could make me humble.
If I go sailing I'll need your wind girl
to take me from near to far.
This young gust you can give me,
it will get us anywhere.
Give me a fireplace to put you,
give me a chance so that I could show you,
any fire would burn much brighter
If you're a light then I'd be lighter,
than anything you could bring to me.
And any one that I can be
is just a man that's giving all he
has to give so please just have me.
If I go sailing I'll need your wind girl
to take me from near to far.
This young gust you can give me,
it will get us anywhere.
21 December 2009
Hey Einin. Let's light our fire.
"I've known you once but met you twice now,
and my old heart it's hurting,
i could leave a life of leisure looming,
to have this choice be certain.
I've asked for nothing
but I've been given chance,
if i could ask for one thing today
it be as simple as a dance.
Please let us make a picture,
we could have any stone go moving
for us, we could make the ocean shake and dance a bit,
we could break the world in two.
Whisper sweetly through the nighttime.
Wake up drowsy but glad to have had it,
teary eyed we said goodbye,
till the time we have to share it.
I took initials and made it clever,
my lovely girl you have given
a second chance to make a third,
that's a day I shall be waiting.
Please let us make a picture,
we could have any stone go moving
for us, we could make the ocean shake and dance a bit,
we could break the world in two.
Simple words can mean so little
till the time I have to show you
how I want that subtle smile
to mend this man that's torn in two.
Please let us make a picture,
we could have any stone go moving
for us, we could make the ocean shake and dance a bit,
we could break the world in two."
It was my favorite song to sing. It was the first song Nin and I had ever danced to. It was the song we danced to at our wedding. It was our song. And It was on the radio when I was driving home from the station. I had made a decision. It was time to get my life back. to get my wife back. To have Nin's love again.
I'm not much of a singer, actually I have a horrible voice, but Nin always said she liked it when I sang, especially when I sang to her. There is something in me when i sing, I can't just sing the song, I have to put everything I need to into the song. I even make stupid little faces and clench my fists sometimes when I feel like I should. It just doesn't feel right not to try and express myself through the songs. That's why I do not do karaoke anymore. I tend to be one of those people who try to hard and just look like a damn fool. But, as I said Nin likes it when I sing. I like it as well.
I had been thinking about our relationship so much lately, and I could conclude one thing. God, I loved her. Relationships seem to be a push and pull of things. I'm sure we all know that. But beyond that, I like to see them as a fire. At first it burns hot and bright, it could burn you right up. You let it burn so nicely, then you find yourself enjoying the coals. It's still so warm and comforting, but doesn't always need to be so brilliantly out of control. But if you neglect those coals, even for a moment, they could go out. You need to feed it, throw something that makes you feel the fire again. Throw that new piece of life right on those coals and burn the hell out of your hearts again for a while. Nin and I, we had let the coals burn down, but I would never let them suffocate themselves. I needed to rekindle our marriage, our relationship, our love.
How the hell could I do that? I know her better than anyone. Better than her parents and her sisters. Better than her whole family. She is my wife. I should know how to be what she needs, what we need. I parked my car in the driveway and saw that there was a light on. She was still awake. It was nearly six in the morning, what was she still doing awake? It was a Thursday, she didn't work on Thursdays.
Before I could open the door Nin opened it from the inside. She was crying. When she saw me she started crying more and then threw herself at me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and cried into my chest. Then she kissed me with her tear soaked face and lips. "Hey there darling. What's wrong?" "I just had a bad feeling about tonight. I had a dream you didn't come home. You are two hours late." "Yeah. I'm sorry Nin, there was a bad accident tonight. Three people died over on Antsole Rd." She started crying more now and hugged me harder.
"It's OK love. I'm here now." "I don't want you to leave me again. I don't want to leave you either." "I left my job tonight. Nin, I quit tonight. I think we need to be closer together again." "Could we, please?" "Look at me." Her tears made her eyes look beautiful. "We are."
and my old heart it's hurting,
i could leave a life of leisure looming,
to have this choice be certain.
I've asked for nothing
but I've been given chance,
if i could ask for one thing today
it be as simple as a dance.
Please let us make a picture,
we could have any stone go moving
for us, we could make the ocean shake and dance a bit,
we could break the world in two.
Whisper sweetly through the nighttime.
Wake up drowsy but glad to have had it,
teary eyed we said goodbye,
till the time we have to share it.
I took initials and made it clever,
my lovely girl you have given
a second chance to make a third,
that's a day I shall be waiting.
Please let us make a picture,
we could have any stone go moving
for us, we could make the ocean shake and dance a bit,
we could break the world in two.
Simple words can mean so little
till the time I have to show you
how I want that subtle smile
to mend this man that's torn in two.
Please let us make a picture,
we could have any stone go moving
for us, we could make the ocean shake and dance a bit,
we could break the world in two."
It was my favorite song to sing. It was the first song Nin and I had ever danced to. It was the song we danced to at our wedding. It was our song. And It was on the radio when I was driving home from the station. I had made a decision. It was time to get my life back. to get my wife back. To have Nin's love again.
I'm not much of a singer, actually I have a horrible voice, but Nin always said she liked it when I sang, especially when I sang to her. There is something in me when i sing, I can't just sing the song, I have to put everything I need to into the song. I even make stupid little faces and clench my fists sometimes when I feel like I should. It just doesn't feel right not to try and express myself through the songs. That's why I do not do karaoke anymore. I tend to be one of those people who try to hard and just look like a damn fool. But, as I said Nin likes it when I sing. I like it as well.
I had been thinking about our relationship so much lately, and I could conclude one thing. God, I loved her. Relationships seem to be a push and pull of things. I'm sure we all know that. But beyond that, I like to see them as a fire. At first it burns hot and bright, it could burn you right up. You let it burn so nicely, then you find yourself enjoying the coals. It's still so warm and comforting, but doesn't always need to be so brilliantly out of control. But if you neglect those coals, even for a moment, they could go out. You need to feed it, throw something that makes you feel the fire again. Throw that new piece of life right on those coals and burn the hell out of your hearts again for a while. Nin and I, we had let the coals burn down, but I would never let them suffocate themselves. I needed to rekindle our marriage, our relationship, our love.
How the hell could I do that? I know her better than anyone. Better than her parents and her sisters. Better than her whole family. She is my wife. I should know how to be what she needs, what we need. I parked my car in the driveway and saw that there was a light on. She was still awake. It was nearly six in the morning, what was she still doing awake? It was a Thursday, she didn't work on Thursdays.
Before I could open the door Nin opened it from the inside. She was crying. When she saw me she started crying more and then threw herself at me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and cried into my chest. Then she kissed me with her tear soaked face and lips. "Hey there darling. What's wrong?" "I just had a bad feeling about tonight. I had a dream you didn't come home. You are two hours late." "Yeah. I'm sorry Nin, there was a bad accident tonight. Three people died over on Antsole Rd." She started crying more now and hugged me harder.
"It's OK love. I'm here now." "I don't want you to leave me again. I don't want to leave you either." "I left my job tonight. Nin, I quit tonight. I think we need to be closer together again." "Could we, please?" "Look at me." Her tears made her eyes look beautiful. "We are."
18 December 2009
Dacklin makes a decision
My wife had been upset at me for the few months before Banning, the dog, and the car happened. the day I lost myself. She told me I was spending less and less time with her and more with Banning. She told me that she felt I didn't love her enough. She told me she needed more from me. Maybe I knew it was going to happen. Maybe that's why my wife felt I was spending so much time with Banning. Maybe I knew it was our last days together. I can't say I did, if I did I would have stopped it. If I knew it would have never happened. I told her "maybe I just love my son."
Losing Banning tore us apart, and at the same time pulled us closer. Einin Keela was and is my wife. She is one of two girls in the most Irish family I have ever met, outside of Ireland of course. I call her Nin. She is the freshest and most radiant person I have ever seen. We met just after high school. I was dating Eileen Peterson at the time, my first girlfriend. Eileen and I had been together for two years, but it hadn't been going so well as of late. Eileen and I were out shopping. I wasn't shopping, just tagging along with her. She was looking for shoes for her brother's wedding. He was six years older than her, Haidan Peterson, and his wedding was a few weeks away. I had been invited as Eileen's date.
That's when I saw her. I was sitting on a bench outside of a fancy shoe store where Eileen was. She was with two of her friends next to a pretzel shop. She wasn't eating a pretzel though, both of her friends were, but she wasn't. She was chewing gum, and boy could she chew gum. I don't know what came over me, I walked straight up to her and said hello. I payed no attention to her friends, and she told me a few months later they thought I was very rude because I didn't acknowledge them. "Hi, I'm Dacklin." "Hello, my name is Einin. Einin Keela." That's all it took for me.
Two weeks later Eileen and I were no more. I didn't go to her brother's wedding. Two and a half weeks later Einin and I went on our first date. Three weeks later we had our first kiss. Eight weeks later I told her I loved her. Two years later I told her I was going to marry her, and made her a promise. Five years later I kept that promise. I married the most beautiful and delicate twenty five year old Irish girl in all the world.
The first three years of our marriage we spent traveling a little, but then got down to real life stuff. We bought a house. A nice two story colonial with three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a basement, a garage, and a deck out back. It had a front and rear lawn. I joined the Fairfield Police Department and Einin started a stationary and print store. She loved little artsy things like that. She loved being able to provide to people so that they could create things.
Einin was the person who got me through my mother's death, and also my fathers. It wasn't my brothers, it was Einin, she was the closest and most important person to me at the time. She still is. She had never lost anyone important to her, not her grandparents, nor parent, nor friends or even close family members, but she knew how to talk to me, how to comfort me, how to give me what I needed. To me, that is the definition of love, being everything you can be for somebody else.
She really did know how to comfort me. Four weeks after my father's passing Einin and I found out we were going to have a child. Just under nine months later, on March 22nd, we had Banning. We loved him so much, the both of us. We loved each other, we loved our family. We loved going shopping for toys, and going on picnics, and getting Banning his first puppy, the chubby little Mr. Pops, and watching movies together while Banning fell asleep between the two of us. It was a life worth having. Four years later on June 26th at the age of four years, three months, four days, six hours, and about eleven minutes Banning was killed by that car. It tore us apart, but pulled us closer than ever.
I attempted to use alcohol and my job to get through it. It was the worst thinking I had ever done. The worst idea I had ever had. The cruelest thing I could ever do. After my full breakdown, and weeks of inebriated mourning, and after going straight back to work to try and occupy my mind away from my life Einin found me, took me home, and we cried together for weeks. It wasn't just I that had lost a son, it was the both of us, and I was too selfish to instantly realize that. Not only did Einin lose a son, the first person she had ever lost, the first person ever cruelly taken from her, but she lost the person who she loved the most, me. I wasn't there for her like she was for me. I never forgave myself for that, but she forgave me. I don't know how she had it in her heart to, but the lovely thing did. It's sad to admit it, but it was the loss of Banning that reminded me how much Einin meant. How much the two of them were everything to me. How much she was everything.
A few years later, for some reason things didn't feel right between us. I had been working more for the Fairfield Police Department, longer shifts, we hadn't even talked about having another child in the past year, Einin had thought about moving her store location to another town, it was just an uneasy time in our life. When Einin told me that she wanted to separate I died inside. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know how to deal with it and went straight to work. I thought of our life so far, and of Banning, and how could it be you could love someone so much but not continually show them that you do, and show them so that they knew it. I handed out more citations in that one night than I had in any week.
It took me three days to figure out what I wanted to say. I didn't say it how I wanted to. We didn't end up separating but the next two years just dragged by with the both of us trying to love one another, but not ever really being in love. It was the worst two years of our relationship. Two long, sad years. She didn't really want to separate, she just wanted things to be better. They weren't. That's when those kids died at the intersection of Antsole Rd. and Victoria Avenue. That's the night I decided to get my life back together.
Losing Banning tore us apart, and at the same time pulled us closer. Einin Keela was and is my wife. She is one of two girls in the most Irish family I have ever met, outside of Ireland of course. I call her Nin. She is the freshest and most radiant person I have ever seen. We met just after high school. I was dating Eileen Peterson at the time, my first girlfriend. Eileen and I had been together for two years, but it hadn't been going so well as of late. Eileen and I were out shopping. I wasn't shopping, just tagging along with her. She was looking for shoes for her brother's wedding. He was six years older than her, Haidan Peterson, and his wedding was a few weeks away. I had been invited as Eileen's date.
That's when I saw her. I was sitting on a bench outside of a fancy shoe store where Eileen was. She was with two of her friends next to a pretzel shop. She wasn't eating a pretzel though, both of her friends were, but she wasn't. She was chewing gum, and boy could she chew gum. I don't know what came over me, I walked straight up to her and said hello. I payed no attention to her friends, and she told me a few months later they thought I was very rude because I didn't acknowledge them. "Hi, I'm Dacklin." "Hello, my name is Einin. Einin Keela." That's all it took for me.
Two weeks later Eileen and I were no more. I didn't go to her brother's wedding. Two and a half weeks later Einin and I went on our first date. Three weeks later we had our first kiss. Eight weeks later I told her I loved her. Two years later I told her I was going to marry her, and made her a promise. Five years later I kept that promise. I married the most beautiful and delicate twenty five year old Irish girl in all the world.
The first three years of our marriage we spent traveling a little, but then got down to real life stuff. We bought a house. A nice two story colonial with three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a basement, a garage, and a deck out back. It had a front and rear lawn. I joined the Fairfield Police Department and Einin started a stationary and print store. She loved little artsy things like that. She loved being able to provide to people so that they could create things.
Einin was the person who got me through my mother's death, and also my fathers. It wasn't my brothers, it was Einin, she was the closest and most important person to me at the time. She still is. She had never lost anyone important to her, not her grandparents, nor parent, nor friends or even close family members, but she knew how to talk to me, how to comfort me, how to give me what I needed. To me, that is the definition of love, being everything you can be for somebody else.
She really did know how to comfort me. Four weeks after my father's passing Einin and I found out we were going to have a child. Just under nine months later, on March 22nd, we had Banning. We loved him so much, the both of us. We loved each other, we loved our family. We loved going shopping for toys, and going on picnics, and getting Banning his first puppy, the chubby little Mr. Pops, and watching movies together while Banning fell asleep between the two of us. It was a life worth having. Four years later on June 26th at the age of four years, three months, four days, six hours, and about eleven minutes Banning was killed by that car. It tore us apart, but pulled us closer than ever.
I attempted to use alcohol and my job to get through it. It was the worst thinking I had ever done. The worst idea I had ever had. The cruelest thing I could ever do. After my full breakdown, and weeks of inebriated mourning, and after going straight back to work to try and occupy my mind away from my life Einin found me, took me home, and we cried together for weeks. It wasn't just I that had lost a son, it was the both of us, and I was too selfish to instantly realize that. Not only did Einin lose a son, the first person she had ever lost, the first person ever cruelly taken from her, but she lost the person who she loved the most, me. I wasn't there for her like she was for me. I never forgave myself for that, but she forgave me. I don't know how she had it in her heart to, but the lovely thing did. It's sad to admit it, but it was the loss of Banning that reminded me how much Einin meant. How much the two of them were everything to me. How much she was everything.
A few years later, for some reason things didn't feel right between us. I had been working more for the Fairfield Police Department, longer shifts, we hadn't even talked about having another child in the past year, Einin had thought about moving her store location to another town, it was just an uneasy time in our life. When Einin told me that she wanted to separate I died inside. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know how to deal with it and went straight to work. I thought of our life so far, and of Banning, and how could it be you could love someone so much but not continually show them that you do, and show them so that they knew it. I handed out more citations in that one night than I had in any week.
It took me three days to figure out what I wanted to say. I didn't say it how I wanted to. We didn't end up separating but the next two years just dragged by with the both of us trying to love one another, but not ever really being in love. It was the worst two years of our relationship. Two long, sad years. She didn't really want to separate, she just wanted things to be better. They weren't. That's when those kids died at the intersection of Antsole Rd. and Victoria Avenue. That's the night I decided to get my life back together.
17 December 2009
Memories of a father
It had always been difficult speaking with my father, and being around him for long periods at a time. My father's name was Liam Hanskead. He passed away when I was thirty, just five months after my mother had passed. My mother, Gretchen Keering Hanskead ended her own life by walking in front of a passenger bus. I blamed my father. Now my son can blame me.
Two months before he died we finally got answers from his doctors. He needed a transplant of the liver. He was evaluated but was put on a waiting list. He was a number. He was rated and qualified as 'not in urgent need.' Ratings come from financial ability and donor status and compatibility. The doctors misdiagnosed his need.
The more I think about it, the more I can remember him in the early stages of his ailments. We didn't know they were symptoms at the time, no one did. It turns out his liver began breaking down some ten years prior because of something called encephalopathy, which is an increase on portal hypertension, or at least that's what I got out of it. We didn't know what was wrong with him for the longest time. It seemed like everyday stress, having a job he didn't like, worries of a second mortgage and three kids finishing schooling, real life stresses. He was changing in front of us and we didn't even know why.
It turns out it was his liver and the fact that it was slowly, but surely, breaking down. His personality changed, he never seemed the same for more than a week at a time, even daily he would fluctuate. That's what drove my mother crazy the most. It wasn't the temporary aggressiveness and short temperance, and it wasn't that he seemed more and more confused about things. He would focus on certain things, certain ideas of memories of our family, some of which never happened at all. It's called 'rewriting' the past in a way that focuses the mind for the body, but just separates the person from reality. It wasn't the focusing on these false memories, and the constant attention and insistence on small and inconsequential matters either that set my mother into fits, it was personality changes, an almost pseudo dementia or trans fixation on exact personal traits. He would just change overnight it seemed, and sometimes he'd come back, but then he would go again, mentally, in a total opposite direction.
My brothers were mostly put off by his memory loss. They couldn't bare hearing stories over and over and over. They stopped laughing at the jokes that always came, the same jokes told infinite times so that they were more commonplace than entertaining. It was a slowly progressive disease, and it slowly tore us apart.
By the time the doctors had figured it out it was too late without the transplant. He was just a number though. A number on a waiting list. Medications wouldn't help, nothing could help, not even faith.
The last time I spoke with him he was insistent on planning a vacation together for the following summer. He told me that he wanted the whole family, including my mother who had passed, to go to Mexico for a ski vacation. He wanted to go to Mexico in the summer with my dead mother on a skiing vacation. I would say he was a bit confused in his last few weeks. Then he told me a joke. I had heard it a good two hundred or so times from him, but it always got a rise out of me. And then out of nowhere he told me he loved me and that he meant it. After that he went quiet for a minute, and it seemed to me that he was thinking about what he had just said. He blinked twice and then told me he wanted to plan a vacation all over again. He died three hours later with just me at his side. My other two brothers were still on their flights coming into see him.
You are suppose to bury your father, not your son. Not your healthy, smart, beautiful son.
Two months before he died we finally got answers from his doctors. He needed a transplant of the liver. He was evaluated but was put on a waiting list. He was a number. He was rated and qualified as 'not in urgent need.' Ratings come from financial ability and donor status and compatibility. The doctors misdiagnosed his need.
The more I think about it, the more I can remember him in the early stages of his ailments. We didn't know they were symptoms at the time, no one did. It turns out his liver began breaking down some ten years prior because of something called encephalopathy, which is an increase on portal hypertension, or at least that's what I got out of it. We didn't know what was wrong with him for the longest time. It seemed like everyday stress, having a job he didn't like, worries of a second mortgage and three kids finishing schooling, real life stresses. He was changing in front of us and we didn't even know why.
It turns out it was his liver and the fact that it was slowly, but surely, breaking down. His personality changed, he never seemed the same for more than a week at a time, even daily he would fluctuate. That's what drove my mother crazy the most. It wasn't the temporary aggressiveness and short temperance, and it wasn't that he seemed more and more confused about things. He would focus on certain things, certain ideas of memories of our family, some of which never happened at all. It's called 'rewriting' the past in a way that focuses the mind for the body, but just separates the person from reality. It wasn't the focusing on these false memories, and the constant attention and insistence on small and inconsequential matters either that set my mother into fits, it was personality changes, an almost pseudo dementia or trans fixation on exact personal traits. He would just change overnight it seemed, and sometimes he'd come back, but then he would go again, mentally, in a total opposite direction.
My brothers were mostly put off by his memory loss. They couldn't bare hearing stories over and over and over. They stopped laughing at the jokes that always came, the same jokes told infinite times so that they were more commonplace than entertaining. It was a slowly progressive disease, and it slowly tore us apart.
By the time the doctors had figured it out it was too late without the transplant. He was just a number though. A number on a waiting list. Medications wouldn't help, nothing could help, not even faith.
The last time I spoke with him he was insistent on planning a vacation together for the following summer. He told me that he wanted the whole family, including my mother who had passed, to go to Mexico for a ski vacation. He wanted to go to Mexico in the summer with my dead mother on a skiing vacation. I would say he was a bit confused in his last few weeks. Then he told me a joke. I had heard it a good two hundred or so times from him, but it always got a rise out of me. And then out of nowhere he told me he loved me and that he meant it. After that he went quiet for a minute, and it seemed to me that he was thinking about what he had just said. He blinked twice and then told me he wanted to plan a vacation all over again. He died three hours later with just me at his side. My other two brothers were still on their flights coming into see him.
You are suppose to bury your father, not your son. Not your healthy, smart, beautiful son.
12 December 2009
Dacklin has a drink
"Hey Dack! What the hell have you been up to? I haven't seen you in ages." Well, to be honest with this guy, Aimon Baird, I wasn't in the best of moods. i wasn't in the best of times actually. My life had just fallen apart a week before. I could tell this guy my son had just died. I could have told him my wife had threw me out of our house the same day we buried him. I could have told him my life was over. I wasn't there to talk though, I was there to drink, actually, to get beyond drunk, to a place where you're allowed to forget everything, including yourself. What I said was simple. "Well life isn't always what you expect it. I didn't expect seeing you for starters. Buy me a drink." "Sure Dack. Let's get that drink. It's on me." "I know."
That was the night. And the next two weeks. I lived at a co-workers house. Officer S. Gerard. He was single so he didn't have to ask his wife. He let me sleep on his couch. I was given leave from the police force, a three week bereavement leave for the loss of my son. Three weeks. Three weeks because I lost most of what was dear to me. the most important person in my life. I had lost my son, and it was my fault. I never told my wife I had taken the time off, I didn't want to see her, well, I did I always want to see her, but I know I can be stubborn, so when she doesn't want me, I tell myself I don't want her.
It's interesting to me what people can go through and get through in life. I don't fully believe that there are moments in your life that you can get over, actually I fully believe some things you could never get over, and I don't really believe you can fully get through them, but I do know, for some reason, we have the ability to move on. i don't like that concept, the concept of moving on. It makes me feel like I'm giving up on the belief of something, giving up on the memory of something, or someone. I will never give up on my boy. I will never forget him. I will remember every word he said. I will remember every step he ever took. i will remember everything. I will never forget Banning. He was so small, so fair, so ready for a great and fortunate life. All he needed was someone who could look after him, to take care of him. Someone to be better for him. He needed a father. I had failed at that. That's something I will never get over, never get through. I failed my son. that is on me.
That was the night. And the next two weeks. I lived at a co-workers house. Officer S. Gerard. He was single so he didn't have to ask his wife. He let me sleep on his couch. I was given leave from the police force, a three week bereavement leave for the loss of my son. Three weeks. Three weeks because I lost most of what was dear to me. the most important person in my life. I had lost my son, and it was my fault. I never told my wife I had taken the time off, I didn't want to see her, well, I did I always want to see her, but I know I can be stubborn, so when she doesn't want me, I tell myself I don't want her.
It's interesting to me what people can go through and get through in life. I don't fully believe that there are moments in your life that you can get over, actually I fully believe some things you could never get over, and I don't really believe you can fully get through them, but I do know, for some reason, we have the ability to move on. i don't like that concept, the concept of moving on. It makes me feel like I'm giving up on the belief of something, giving up on the memory of something, or someone. I will never give up on my boy. I will never forget him. I will remember every word he said. I will remember every step he ever took. i will remember everything. I will never forget Banning. He was so small, so fair, so ready for a great and fortunate life. All he needed was someone who could look after him, to take care of him. Someone to be better for him. He needed a father. I had failed at that. That's something I will never get over, never get through. I failed my son. that is on me.
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