Grief

I just received word that the young man I went to visit in hospice on Wed, that I had written in the last entry passed away this afternoon. We arrived around 12:30 pm, he'd had a rough night, had woke up disoriented, because his body wasn't getting enough oxygen. so they had induced a "nap". We waited for a few hours until he awoke...seems he was glad to see us, he hopped out of bed oxygen mask around his face, morphine pack on his shoulder, and set about getting busy setting up his recording equipment....he was a musician and had a few tracks that needed work on. He was happy, he was chatty, he was funny, he was the boy I remembered in the body of what appeared to be an old man...bald, swollen, eyes somewhat sunk...He knew what was ahead of him and he belief suggested that this wasn't anything to be concerned with it. He had, along with his two brothers, been delivered in the hands of yours truly along with my friends at an annual social situation, to supervise, possibly be a positive influence on, feed and give a home base to. One of the three was "creative" so he was under the impression that the world should work the way he thought it should. One was wanting to please and did anything he was told, one was quite and didn't take much on face value often innocently questioning some of the absolutes that I and my friends put forth. All three good boys, all three good men. The artist fell into the opiate trap, I delivered a form of eulogy at his memorial at the request of the one that just passed. as I reflect on it all, I find that they enriched my life more then I probably did theirs. They insisted that I be clear on my claims, they introduced alternative concepts that are usually present within the thoughts of the young...they would challenge me, sometimes blatantly, sometimes gently, as was their right. I begin to understand the reward of having children....I begin the understand the idea of why we're put here, why we do this thing called life.... My own existence will be a bit darker for this man's passing. If I had any influence on what kind of a man he became I feel honored...and he will be missed......

Contemplating the middle and the end....

contemplating the end It seems I only come here to post when I feel the world closing in on me. I see that the place needs some dusting, and some general clean up….been kinda busy. Maybe I’ll clean up as I talk… Recently l have had both good and bad occur to me: I’ve been able to stay on top of my bills since I got laid off by the idiot I was working for, had a few leads for other 9 to 5 jobs, but nothing panned out, so I became one of the many self employed, getting the work done, staying on top of it, although recently that has been difficult. I have been dealing with Bronchitis for a few weeks, did the antibiotics and it still lingers. I will be heading back next week if it doesn’t resolve itself in a day or two. On top of that one of the many situations of unrequited love, rediscovered in the last few years has decided she’s done with all this. She was a bright happy girl when I knew her years ago. Not one of the “art chicks” who were crazed by nature, nurture, or self imposed fashion sense. I have plenty of those stories. But...this one was different. Her skin is the color of warm cream, her build slight, her hair fair, her blue eyes sparkled and her disposition straight from the place she was raised a girl from Ohio, less hard edged then a Jersey girl, but with all the sharpness- A girl next door in appearance and disposition but hardly virginal if you follow my drift. I missed my shot at her.I had more pressing things when she reached out to me. damnit. Anyway, she lies now in a bed of her own sweat. They give her morphine for the pain; they give her anxiety inhibitors to keep her calm to face the inevitable. She has a needle keeping fluids and salt in her veins and hooked up to machines that regulate her breathing, her heart, her temperature. She is dressed in a hospital gown and a diaper. Her arms and face are emaciated, her abdomen and legs swollen from accumulated fluids. Her liver is failing, her kidneys are barely working and stomach cancer is doing what it was designed to do. To suggest that this is Tragedy with a capitol T is down playing it. The affect that it is having is a black pall that lingers in the air. Like pollution that hangs in the air spewed forth from the smokestack of the PPG plant from my childhood, or the brown air that one must use as a filter when seeing colors in Cleveland when I was there, but thicker, heavier, darker…barely translucent. People and things appear as ghosts, seeming to glide from one spot to another, noises seem dim, muffled. We wait for our friend to punch the clock to clock out of this veil of tears. This was self imposed…for some reason this woman’s heart was broke and could not be repaired and she attempted to dull the pain with alcohol. And despite warnings that this would be the result, she couldn’t stop. I've been dealing with this for about 3 weeks, it's been a distraction from my work...Then yesterday I got more news. A boy who has barely been a man for a decade or a decade and half, married to a pretty girl who loves the hell out of him and they were trying to start a family. He started his own business that tied his interest in electronics to the family business of music, and was making one hell of a go of it too. This young man and his two brothers were occasionally entrusted to me and my friends to turn them into honorable men, as somewhat the hole in the hub, it fell on me to occasionally to separate the shit from the "Shinola" for them, as I was taught to be an honorable honest and moral man, I taught them what I could. There were three, One an artist, one a typical kinda guy, One smart and shy. The artist wanted to play the guitar. He was the most difficult cause he was stubborn, he thought the world should work his way…..like any creative mind. Not a makeup I'm a stranger to, that is for sure. He got involved with Heroine. He struggled with it for a few years, went into rehab, came out and someone known to all hooked him up. He died of an overdose that night, the night of his welcome home party. I was asked by the youngest brother to bring words to his memorial. I delivered his eulogy; I shared the stage with their preacher. He spoke of faith, of resurrection, of belief, of bathing in the blood of the lamb. I dear reader, as you can probably guess, brought science to the mix, I spoke of the body being a chemical electric engine that created a unique energy as could be seen in "aura photo's", I spoke of how energy could be changed, but not destroyed. I spoke of how the human body before death was actually heavier then after...something that was there is there no longer. I spoke of how this changed state is still present, and that fact could be proven. For my non religious friends, it was what they needed to hear, many hugged me and thanked me for speaking for them. The boy that asked me to bring words is the one lying there dying today. Three years ago he found out he had cancer. He fought the valiant fight, he used all the devices and systems available to modern medicine…but it wasn’t enough. They told him yesterday that there was nothing left they could do, and they’re moving him to hospice. I will be going to say my farewells with two friends, in recent history in a certain local and situation, my right and left hands…I asked both to accompany me so that I wouldn’t break down and cry. The boy doesn’t need to see that. He will deal with enough tears as he lies there looking for the inevitable. The pall becomes thicker, deeper, colder and darker. SO I am left considering both of these situations, comparing them. Both a tragic waste, One brought down from an aspiring height, a life full of potential and hope, snuffed out tragically before it had a chance to experience some of those things we all take for granted as part of life. The other, wrought with self doubt, seeking relief from the pain, to drown the sorrow. As I go through this life I doubt I will understand. I find myself just shaking my head, hiding my eyes, hoping that this short lived darkness will provide me some comfort...until the next time I feel the need to confess to a well…...