Death where is thy sting? Indeed…

I want to turn back the hands of time. How I long to sit at the table with you dad and have coffee again. I would do anything to have more time with you. I wish someone could tell me why I feel so alone. Even when I am in the company of others I feel so forlorn and lost. I plod forward day after day asking God why. Why did your last years have to be so filled with hopelessness? How cruel to trap an active mind in a broken body. What lesson were you trying to teach me? I missed it somewhere, maybe when I refused to accept your fate I somehow blinded myself.

Death does indeed sting and its poison paralyzes my soul. I look out my window at the snow on the slumbering lawn and I long for springtime. Yet, spring will come and go and you will still be gone; just out of my reach. I can, at times, almost for an instant feel your presence; then again my chaotic emotions toy with my soul and leave it raw and bleeding. I would pray a million prayers, cry an ocean of tears, cross a bottomless chasm on a crumbling bridge if it would reunite us again.

The night approaches and with it I long for closure, or do I? I stretch my arms out into the darkness and empty hands grasp only memories. Hot tears sting my eyes and roll down my face. I scream for you within my mind, “DAD!” Sometimes it almost escapes my lips in that moment between dreaming and awaking, but it hurts too much to say it aloud. I want to slip into a peaseful oblivion; somewhere where the pain can’t crush my heart in its iron vice. Soon another day will dawn, and another day of missing you will begin.

Dragons and Daydreams

I have been of vacation (my last of 3 this year) since the 22nd of December, and still the days seem to all run together like wet paint. One day is hardly dissimilar from the one before. I try to motivate myself and pull myself up and get the crap done that needs to be; the rest can wait for now.

My mind lately has been returning to bygone days of adventuring with my friends (or at least on paper, rolling dice) slaying vile creatures and winning glory. Funny, most of our adventures ended short of the goal because of internal contention within the group. I think this is not unlike what is going on inside my psyche. All my energy is being used up fighting myself so I have no strength to move on. I ponder about some of those adventures and think how nice it would have been to see a few of them come to completion. How nice it would be to wake one morning, stop fighting myself and reach whatever goal I am meant to accomplish.

I feel like something is feeding my depression; maybe if I find a way to starve it, it just may die, or at the very least, be too week to control my life. I need some bricks; there are walls to be built, really big walls.

Not in Kansas anymore, but who wants to be in Kansas?

We made the trip home from Kentucky in one piece, minus my frazzled nerves. There ought to be a way of putting kids in some kind of cryostasis during long trips. Thaw them out when you get to your final destination. Would be better than hearing them argue, whine, ask to go the bathroom, ask if we are there yet, ask why we aren’t there yet, and on and on until my mind feels like salad dressing that has been left on the kitchen counter for a week, open!

You know, there is only so many times you can listen to a kid song CD before you have to take it out (resisting the urge to throw it out the window) and put it away. Of course, taking it out starts another round of whining and crying. They say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I really hope that is true.

The long trip home

The van is packed and hopefully we have everything we left home with. I don’t think we have ever left Kentucky without forgetting at least one thing. I will have to remember to double check that I have the kids belted in place.

One good thing, if there is such a thing, the price of crude oil is still falling. Of course, it won’t be long before either OPEC steps in and cuts production again, or some great conflict will drive the price up again. I guess we can add that to one of the sure things in life along with taxes and dying. Axe high my friend, I go.

Gone, just gone.

I don’t know if I still subscribe to all the stuff that the clergy says anymore. I think I am just tired of all this heartache. For those of you who don’t know, my father passed away, in his sleep, on October 19th of this year. I spent Christmas here in Kentucky with Angie’s family. First, because I promised to do it over a year ago; secondly because I don’t think I could be home with the memories of Christmas past slapping me in the face.

I know that I won’t ever get over loosing my father, it has been over a month and it is still surreal. All the anti-depressants in the world won’t change that; nothing will. I walked to Glendale, from Angie’s parents house, on Christmas Eve (needed some me-time to think). It would have been better if I had brought some walking shoes. Ten miles later at the truck stop on I-65 (about 1.5 miles further than I meant to go) I called Angie and told her my knees and hip hurt too much to make the return trip; not to mention that it was 7 pm and totally overcast. If you have walked down back roads in Kentucky, then you know that there are little if any place to step off to let on-coming traffic pass. In some places stepping off, is really taking a leap of faith; blinded by oncoming headlights a step could result in a unpleasant surprise.

The more that things change, the more I feel like I am lost in a Pink Floyd video. “Is there anybody in there?” I really hope that I am nodding.

Not for Granted

I do not take her for granted. I know that we are not promised tomorrow. Still, I know that there are times that I totally blow it. Say the wrong thing, I do not say the right thing, or I don’t have the presence of mind to just keep quiet and listen to what she has to say. I can not blame it all on my condition neither can I just mark it up to being male.

I make blunders; I know that will never change, still, lately I make an effort to learn from them. She is with me because she loves me. Loves me unconditionally; loves me more than she could love anyone else. At times I don’t know why, I can be incredibly difficult to totally impossible to live with, and yet she endures this also.

At worst, I cause her to cry. My stubbornness causes me to put on a rock-hard facade, but deep down I am crying also, and so astoundingly angry with myself for causing her grief. I am supposed to make her happy, support her, and be her provider. Yet, why do I fail? I am not going to mark it up to being human, or to say that it is a “man thing,” that would be excuse that I know is not true. I will not look for an “easy way out.”

I will have to redouble my efforts. I must listen first; only ask questions if I don’t understand what she is saying. Second, I must think before I speak; tempering my words with love and compassion that I feel toward her and no other. Third, if no words will work, then simply say that I am sorry, or that I understand, and embrace her until she knows that it will be alright, or if not, that together, with God’s grace, we will make it through it.

I love her completely, down to every filament of who I am. I need her and I appreciate everything she does. The labors of keeping house, raising our children, helping with the budget, praying for me and hearten me on when everything in the world threatens to overwhelms me. No one else in the universe can fill the place in my life that she inhabits. No one can be who she is to me and I can only try to be who see needs me to be. Love is the greatest gift in life, everything else pales in comparison. Her love is my greatest gift; even if I have no words at times to say it, I am truly thankful that God answered my prayer with the gift of Angela.

I’m not crazy I’m just a little unwell…

It isn’t in my head, now I know. Being misdigonosed bites, in more ways then one. Everyone thinks your out of your mind, it cost way too much, and you even begin to doubt your own sanity. So I go back on the 24th to find out if they have to remove something I’ve be quite attached to for sometime.

UPDATE: Better now. I am minus one very misbehaved gallbladder. Good riddance!

A Good Day

All in all it was a good day; I spent it with my oldest daughter. Those days are becoming fewer and farther between. She is 13 now and even though I know I am not losing her, daddy’s don’t like seeing their little girls grow up. It’s just wrong.

When she talks about a boy she likes, how’s she put it, oh yes, her “boyfriend,” I cringe and think that vile little vert wants to violate my little princess. I know that is illogical, I don’t even know him, nor have I met him, but I already don’t like him.

I always thought the hardest part about growing up would be growing old, I was wrong. The toughest part is watching those you love grow independent of you, and those who took care of you becoming dependent on you.

Still, I thank God for good days. They are few and far between.