My Super Power

Positive thinking alone won't get you anywhere; but I've heard it will get you significantly further than negative thinking. And still I hold on to my Super Power. Yes, I do have a Super Power. I am able to look into the future and positively see, crystal clear, the undesireable things I fear will happen.  As Super Powers go this one is enormously useless except for creating anxiety. None of what I feared happened today again. It was a very Merry Christmas.

Tree Up. Lights on. Stockings hung.

 One Christmas season past, I saw this 9 year old kid looking up at me with a round face and tight lipped smile. In years to come we'd be picking out Christmas trees to cut and drag through the snow. Decorating these trees required a tall later and agility. I cherish those memories of building a bond.

It's been three Seasons since our last tree.  Today she selected a tree with me, strapped it to the roof of her car, brought it home, and strung the lights.  Christmas home again. Joy to the world. Grateful for my place in this life. 

It All Seemed So Limitless

From atop the shoulders of my pride, in the days before the day, it all seemed so limitless. The horizon without end was brilliant blue and cloudless. Flat ground dotted with gentle hills were impediments to no one. You can dream, can't you?

Yes. You can dream. You can dream as far as belief in the possibility of all things can take you. It was when I quit believing in happily ever after that the dream of possibility faded to the doubt of probable.

I can't ride on pride or ego for long.   To walk with humility requires acceptance of what is and is not. In acceptance, the view is limited. There are limits and the horizon is within reach. Clouds turn from blue to gray. It all goes away in the end. There are no happy endings. Life is with limits.

Little Things

The little things are the easiest to walk from and the hardest to let go.

Well, they're in a better place now.

We've heard it. Maybe said it. A Person struggles with his demons and dies relatively young.

A better place? We believe young people in recovery who raise a hand to say "I want to live" are in a better place at Grace House or Aarons House.

Right here in Madison.  A better place to live in recovery.

Let It Be...

If it was only that small,
maybe it,
 would let me be.

Grace House

 

We're born with grace. That may be all we had the day we arrived.  Grace is the product of gratitude. At one time believe it or not, there was nothing in our minds except gratitude. No desire, No worries, No fears. No wishes, No regrets. No expectations. Just the content feeling of grace. The birth must be the most traumatic experience of our lives because until we were exposed to light, air, and a temperature that was not 98.6 degrees, we knew nothing except serenity. That beautiful place, that heavenly place is gone. It's all we've ever known and it's gone. Maybe we live our lives trying to return to that place of eternal contentment. 

Placed before us from the day we were born until the moment we die are choices. Stretch out your hand, choose fire or ice, good or evil, danger or safety. We have free will and a complex body and brain made of mysterious and magical chemicals and the minerals of the earth. We also have chance. We can't choose to be born or who to be born of, we may win the gene pool lottery and skate through life unscathed by trauma or illness. Highly unlikely. Because we are human and a delicate balance of chemicals and minerals, what we are exposed to, what we put into our bodies, what we do to our minds, pose a risk to disruption of the ability to choose ice over fire, danger over safety, and good over evil. If everyone seeks serenity, then no one chooses to relinquish what serenity they have. No one, unless there is something that disrupts logical, rational, reasoning. Alcohol and other  drugs may take nothing from one person and everything from her sister or brother. No one chooses to become dependent on a mind altering substance. We all may choose to put something into our bodies, but we don't choose to become dependent. 

For millions of Americans who desire to return to a life of pursuit of happiness with a healthy mind and body, recovery becomes their lifestyle forever. They learn daily how to live without the drug. How to live with reasonable expectations. How to not pick up. If you're a college kid, the toughest place for you to learn the lessons of recovery might just be college. At any time there may be 600 students at the University of Wisconsin, Madison College, and Edgewood college getting up with the sun, bright eyed and praying that the sun sets on their sober faces. With a hundred thousand of students and peers living a lifestyle different from their's, these many few may feel alone in a crowd with a tenuous grasp on recovery and a heavy weight of temptation urging them to be like everyone else. 

The college student in recovery lives a life of gratitude in the midst of a society which is perpetually encouraged  to be dissatisfied and find serenity in more, more, more. The recovery person knows from intimate experience the deadly risk of choosing more over acceptance of what is or isn't and being grateful for what really matters. In gratitude grace emerges. Remember, grace was there all the time. Grace was pushed to the corner crushed by resentment, anger, jealousy, envy, pride, fear and over indulgence. Humility is a product of gratitude. Grace shines where humility exists. 

Recovery people who have a chance of another day of a life of choices, free from dependency for the moment, have humility. They know how to be grateful for what matters. They know how to say yes to what is good and no to what is dangerous. The desire to use a drug has been lifted, but that reprieve is only a daily reprieve dependent on factors that can be achieved through honesty.

In 2007, August 13th to be exact, Aaron's House a housing option for college men in recovery opened under the umbrella of the Aaron J. Meyer Foundation, Inc. Today, the Foundation opened Grace House for women. Grace House is the sister house to Aaron's House. My prayer for the student residents at Aaron's House and Grace House is that they live their lives with Grace and Dignity. I believe God answers that prayer every day I ask God to help me be a man of grace and dignity. Dreams do come true. Prayers are answered. Grace is restored. Peace to the women and men who make the community of college students in recovery.  You've got today.

No, she's not MY daughter, but I knew her father.

Thorough wrote about temporarily having possession of a man's axe and returning the axe to the man sharper than when he received it. I read that in May 05. I knew he was not so much talking about a man's axe as much as he was describing an idea for respecting, caring for, and being responsible for prized possessions of others. Even the peace and serinity of another person is a possession I can take away and dull or sharpen for having been in the presence.

This is Emma. Since 2009 we've grown a connection where we learn from each other. I has sons. No daughters. She has a mom, her dad passed away when Emma was 9. For six years we lived and learned, laughed, cried some,  and laughed again, never stopped learning.

I lost a child once, I never wanted to lose another. Emma told me one day with a diamond of a tear dropping from her eye, "I lost a Dad once, I didn't want to lose another." Grateful to say one day after a memorable day at the Jefferson Arabian Horse Show, nothing was lost. The prized possessions are sharper than when we acquired them.

I'm asked from time to time, "Tom, is Emma your daughter?" What my head wants to say is 'no, she's not but she was supposed to be.' That's a bitter laced answer, inappropriate and lacking in Grace. Yesterday the proper response came to me. This is it: "Is Emma MY daughter?  She is not my daughter,  but I knew her Dad. I'm fortunate to have a special place in Emma's life."

For certain we are both sharper for having been in the presence of each other since 2009.

Tilt

Con's. I think the name was short for Connie. Pinball machines, pool tables, steamed hot dogs, and a smooth, not so frothy root beer were inside. Guys working things  out between themselves happened out the back door. As a kid, I feared walking in the front door would eventually lead to the dreaded walk out the back door. As much as I liked the dogs and beer, at 12 I knew I didn't like the idea of being punched bloody. Fearing what could be, kept me away from pinball. That's OK. Life lets you play for free. Sometimes you're the flipper, sometimes the bumper, and maybe mostly the silver ball.

The playing field is cluttered with bumpers, pitfalls, flippers, lights, bells, success, failure, and a Tilt walk  of shame when you're caught cheating. The game always ends the same way no matter what you score; the ball is buried in a hole and the lights flash Game Over. High Score? So what. It won't last. The same ball that rings up success after success, is launched repeatedly by flippers, bumpers, and spring loaded catapults. The ball has no direction of it's own...except down with gravity.

Pinball is a metaphor of life. Launched down a tube, the human ball (Orb) enters the world of good and bad with no ability to choose this or that. Rapid fire bumpers ring up success. Quick rejections from flippers sends Orb from here to there. The world calls to Orb, "Over here! Snap. No Over There. Snap. Not here stupid, get out! Snap. Faster! snap. Slow down. Snap." All games end with Orb more or less losing momentum and falling into the abyss. A flailing attempt by the flippers can't catch Orb when he's done for good. Cheating to nudge Orb on a different course with a hip to the machine is caught and the player is called out TILT!! The bells go quiet. No buzzer. No lights. Orb falls helplessly to the pit. All players know how to get a little more out of life by nudging. If you're not caught, you didn't cheat. Points scored in the gray area of fair count. TILT isn't all bad...it shows you tried to push the limit. You're allowed a couple of Tilts before the game shuts down on you for good. Everyone gets the benefit of the doubt for a little while. Every champion finishes with Game Over. When the last ball drops off of the inclined board it hits the bottom of the dark hole with a sterling silver thud. You know it's over. Your score flashes. The lights go off. NEXT PLAYER Up.

Willingness To Forgive

The technique of forgiveness is simple enough, and not very difficult to manage when you understand how. the only thing that is essential is willingness to forgive. Provided you desire to forgive the offender, the greater part of the work is already done.  The Sermon On The Mount. Emmet Fox, 1934

Forgiving people does not mean that you have to like the person or their act. Consider this, Christian faith has the story of Jesus being murdered in the most horrific manner known 2000 years ago. To this day, with all of our experience killing, there is still no more painful, grotesque, merciless, way to murder. The images and statues of the event are modest depictions of the brutality of crucifixion and its torturous slow death. During the ordeal, Jesus said, "Forgive them Father, they know not what they do."  He didn't say, "Hey, these guys are cool. I wanna hang with them."

Forgiveness quiets our mind and frees us from the burden of the thoughts, behaviors, acts of people and events of the past. Forgiveness is to drop the weight, opens the dark curtain to let in the light, and walk away with our hands empty to hold onto things that matter. When I've refused to forgive people, events, or myself, I carry a heavy load in both hands, and on my back. My eyes, if they are up, are focused in a tunnel vision. I can't hold anything that matters in my hands or head.  When I find the willingness to forgive, the burden is set down. Maybe I walk around it a few times, and when I take those first steps away from the pile of resentment, I have a chance to live free again. Our eyes are in the front of our head for a reason. We see the present in living color. The past we have to imagine...and it's sketchy, mostly black and white, and always bigger than life.

Letting go. Now, here's the hard part. Once the forgiveness is stated, keep walking and wish the person well, I have to say "X is free and so am I. I wish X well in life. I am free. I am well."   We know this to be true: past events only hurt when we keep them in the present. I can not hurt yesterday. I can only hurt at this moment. If I hurt because of a yesterday experience, a yesterday person, I'm carrying that experience or person or both from the past to the present. Hey, I wonder if the idea of leaving the dead with the dead is a reference to resentments?

I'm not a fan of displaying a statue or image of murder by crucifixion; not even the watered down peaceful version. But as proof that I am capable of forgiving, I can imagine the actual scene as horrible as I can see it, and hear the man forgive his murders "for they know not what they do". I'm not going to join people who hurt me to play games and banter. They're on their own. I'm moving on. I'm not taking them with me, and I'm not going where they're going. I have willingness and that's a start.

Firm Grip

"Reach out and shake a man's hand so he knows there's a man on the other side, and not a wet noodle."  Advice to me from Fritz Hollings 1982.

When you shake hands, you know when it's time to let go...and sometimes you or the other person doesn't want to release. A firm grip of a hand and reality have made a difference in my life. So has a firm grip of a memory. Funny thing about holding things in our grips; eventually someone feels uncomfortable in the grip.

Let it go. I remember writing about this idea before. Easier to let go of what we don't want than it is to let go of what we wish we had or would like to keep. There are valid and logical reasons why something that's not good for me should be released. A few months and a boat load of work ago I was gripping something with the firm grasp of my mind. On a scale of 1 to 10 it was a 10. Today my mind holds those thoughts the way a seamstress threads a needle. Time didn't do anything to loosen my grip. The work that was necessary did.

My mind and heart feel free....99% of the time.  This is a good time to let my mind be a wet noodle to a period of time that was what it was and isn't what it wasn't.

We Cannot Own. We Can Care For.

The Peace Pond received that Magnolia Tree in 2005. I planted it. Nurtured it. Cried under it. Prayed under it. Read under it. In 2010 the tree, the pond, the gardens, the house were turned over to the people who care for them today. Today I see the tree, the pond, the gardens, the house are happy and healthy. I did my part someone else took it further. I'm grateful someone cares for what mattered to me.

Emma graduates from high school in 3 and a half hours. She invited me to the event....even snatched a ticket for me to get into the gym. A guy I met in 2005 is her father. I knew him well enough to know how much he loved his only daughter. He passed away in 2006.  In 2009 my life and Emma's connected. We formed a tiny bond over Zanzibar chocolate from the Chocolate Shoppe. To that bond we added bands of strength, tempered by happiness and sorrow. On the day of her graduation, the bond is unbreakable. I'm grateful when given the chance to care for a precious being, I was able to be the man in Emma's life when she most needed a dad. I never attempted to replace her dad. In fact, I made sure he was remembered and honored.  Emma's not my daughter. She's  forever my girl.

Nurtured the tree person grew tall and strong. So did the girl person. Love having cared for these gifts from God.

Remarkable

There are graduation parties and then there are graduation celebrations.

When Aaron was young the neighborhood was filled with his friends all on course to graduate in June 2005. For years our families talked about what would be a neighborhood graduation party for these kids who were closest friends. When the party day arrived, I was home with a broken heart. The happy sounds coming from the neighbor's parties ripped emotions through me. Grief included sadness, guilt for not being happy for the other families, shame, jealousy, envy, resentment, self pity. I did stop in at 3 parties, managed to be graceful, and left each more broken than before.  I tried to keep two boxes of tissues in my car that summer and still I'd have only my shirt tail to sob into.

Yesterday, the guys at Aaron's House held a graduation celebration. One of the guys graduated from the UW. A biochemistry major, now employed as an assistant scientist in his field of study. In the midst of his friends, family, and housemates, I felt the remarkable peace of a meaningful celebration of life. Four of the five student residents of Aaron's House were on hand for the celebration. The fifth was at home for a family obligation----right where he is supposed to be. Remarkable.  The gratitude of the parents and family members fills my heart with gladness. The laughter and banter of the young people washes away the memories of those unforgettable days; days which are important for the motivation they inspired.

This morning I know how remarkable peer support in a home environment is for young people in college and in recovery. I saw it, heard, felt it, touched it. Everything does not happen for a reason, but every good thing comes from good people being remarkable in giving something to another person. For eleven years I've been feeling one arm empty. Not anymore. My arms are remarkably full.

Aaron's House. A place where guys in recovery get well and get smart in college. Peace to all of the families who have been remarkable since 2007.

I Will Let You Go...Just don't leave

Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears. Hard Times. Johnny Cash.

In messages to friends, he signed his name, Aaron...Good Times. When drugs entered his life in 2003, he wrote on his bookshelf: Good Times. Hard Times. Bad Times. Sad Times. I fought the drug culture that summer,  and the culture won....then.  We were losing Aaron and we would not let him go. Imagine fighting evil for the soul of your child. You can't see it, the drug culture is shrouded in darkness. Your fight is with the wind blowing from every direction. Who is the enemy? The friends? The school? The police? My son? Even me.

It's 11:09 AM ten years since that May 10th day in 2005. I recall the events of the morning too clearly.  At 9:40 AM the teacher at Horizon High School, enforcing the fatally flawed relapse policy, told Aaron that first hour was finished and it was time for him to leave the school grounds. Aaron was having fun with his peers...a peer support program works that way, together never alone.  Aaron I'm told replied, "But I'm not ready to leave."  No. My son was not ready to leave. He followed the agreement.  Aaron drove his black GMC Sonoma home.  At home he sat down with a whole coconut cream pie Cathy had made for his birthday. His phone was plugged into a charger. Aaron joined in on some world wide video game. (Video gaming in the daytime wasn't the agreement) He played until his phone range a few minutes after noon. A 19 year old friend who had done jail time for dealing Oxy asked for a ride to a job interview. His mother declined to do the job, his grandma was busy. The video game was paused. Aaron was coming back; he wasn't leaving.

One neighbor saw Aaron in our front yard at 12:09. Aaron was talking on his phone, walking, and smiling. Our next door neighbor saw him drive out..probably 12:12. Aaron drove 2.8 miles from home, traveling west on Vinburn Road. At 12:17, the owner of the concrete wall, holding mulch for sale, 20 feet from the road, said Aaron had a pulse. And then he was gone. For 2 hours we knew nothing of what was happening in that ditch. I even left a message on Aaron's phone around 1:00...he was healthy, happy, alive as far as I knew.

It's less than an hour until ten years ends and the eleventh begins. Aaron, I will let you go, just promise you won't leave. Oh hard times come again no more. Many days you have lingered...around my door. From middle school on Aaron kept a notebook of sayings he found interesting. I don't know if last words were included, but I know he'd love for his last words to his friends at school be recorded, remembered. Smiled about. "But I'm not ready to leave." 

The Smoke of The Fire

May 3. Seven days remain. These are some of the last days of April and May 2005. Ten years of holding Aaron tight during the Ten Days of May. Trying to stop the clock, find the crease in the universe to slip around 5/10/05, and come out safe on the other side of darkness.

Weeks after Aaron died I had a dream that Cathy, Patrick, Aaron, and I were on an open air deck off of a big building. We were each talking quickly at Aaron, the way you do when you have much to say and too little time. I wrapped my arms around him. I could actually feel his broad shoulders and muscles in his back the way I did on 5/8/05. He filled my arms.  We were telling Aaron to stay.  He told us "I've got to go now." I held tighter. Aaron became long, slim, and white. His upper body was way above my head. My arms went empty, holding only a wisp of white haze as Aaron rose into the sky. I cried myself awake.

I've got a tight grip on Aaron this week and I know he's going to slip away, right through my fingers. The crease will stay closed. My arms will hold only the smoke of the fire.

The photo of the house is significant. I took that picture at 10/30 AM on 5/10/05. The leaves on the trees, the light blue sky, and less than 2 hours left in Aaron's life. In life as it was, as it could be. 

Let Go and Let God...Morality and Conformity.

Morality: Latin. Meaning manner,  proper behavior.

When the demand for morality means conformity the color of the world is in jeopardy. The heart beat of the universe is not affected by our free will choice of acceptance, rejection, aggression, anger, or submission. There are times when "letting go and letting God" is an excuse to neglect God's gift and let someone else do the work, or take the risk.

Life does not give us only comforting opportunities. Those are easy. We're not challenged to do the easy. To stand up for the popular opinion. To go along with the crowd. To fall in line. Proper behavior is not necessarily proper by every person's standards. Surely the world history is full of tyrants who demanded of the people proper behavior, morality as they saw it. In fact, what authority would accept their decision being directly, and forcibly challenged?  It wouldn't be proper. The person who is willing to stand up against unjust laws and decisions is quickly labeled ill mannered, hot tempered, a bully, or  "of questionable morals". Conformity is well documented as the fertilizer for the fast growth of evil. See Nazi Germany, Manifest Destiny, Vietnam, Slavery, Genocide. Conformity can only happen when people accept what they know is wrong and follow the flock.

God gave us emotions which allow us to be so much more than passive and accepting and tolerant. Passive, accepting, and tolerant is to aid evil. God given ability to be bold and confront wrong is something to be grateful for. Wrongs left unchallenged breed pain and misery. Letting go and letting God might just be rejecting the quality traits God gave us to be who we are. If we all sit back and let God, maybe God might be wondering why we aren't being responsible. Is it probable that God is saying, "Let me? I gave you the ability to do what you need to do. You use what I gave you and be responsible."  God doesn't expect we will do the easy work and leave the tough stuff for God. Do we really want to only do the vanilla work? What kind of life is it to take what's given, never fight for right, or demand change? How do we move forward if we only participate in easy work and let go of the tough stuff? Certainly someone, who isn't Godly, can take advantage of that void unfilled by the passion of people who conceded their right to be passionate.

I sat down more than once and let misguided people do harm to others with illogical decisions. We have a moral responsibility to stand up and demand what is right. I regret a few times I backed down from standing firm for my beliefs in the name of letting God. I'm most grateful for the times I challenged conformity and stood up for what I believe. Nothing great comes from just getting along with the crowd.

A Daily Reprieve

Grief. Ten years. April 28, 2005 I recall we were meeting or preparing to meet with the people at Horizon High School to discuss the conditions for Aaron's graduation. He had relapsed on April 22 or 23 and came clean about the slip with his counselor. Patient confidentiality was overlooked; the private counseling staff was connected to the school. I stood next to Aaron's classmates as he walked up the hill to meet the school staff to hear their decision. One of the students standing next to me calmly said, "He's got a lot courage. If it was me, I don't think could face this."  Aaron did have courage. He also had integrity. Aaron came to face the staff and accept their decision. I was prepared to battle the school and the counselors. Conflict! Patient Rights!

The meeting started with Aaron speaking. He said he would accept the decision and comply with whatever they felt was best. I seethed inside. The decision was handed out--Aaron could finish school at Horizon (1 more month) but he was only to attend first hour, and then do his work from home, go to counseling, step meetings, and locate employment.  I rejected the idea that he should not be in the school from 8:30 to 3:00. Accept the decision, I was told. They know best. Let go of control.

I handed Aaron a letter I wrote on the weekend. It ended with "As you turn 18 and finish high school, all I want for you...." The sentence ended at "you". I was typing on a flight to Austin. They announced to put away electronic devices. The  letter was printed before the meeting, put in my pocket, and looked over by me at the conference table. I saw I had not finished the letter. I wrote in pen "...is to just live". I handed the letter to Aaron. He read it, folded it into a small rectangle and put it in his pocket.

At about 4:30 on May 10th, I saw that note again. I had fallen face down on a pile of clothes in Aaron's room, and clutched at his clothes. I felt something in a pocket of a dirty pair of pants. The letter was a bit tattered. The last words, written in ink were all I had to see,"Just live."  Just live Aaron. Just live. My first resentment occurred happened that instant. Guilt of failing to fight the school and the counselors to keep Aaron in the school building flooded me. Anger at the decision makers swept through me. Angry. Bitter. Mean. Justifiable anger.

Within two hours I was face down again on the floor of the living room. I could see the shoes of the Priest. Maybe I was trying to push through the floor. I stopped with my head in the corner. I was trying to recall the prayer I was given for no known reason that morning: Let me hear what you need me to hear, let me speak what you need me to speak, let my mind and heart be open. The words escaped me. I'd only heard it once and that was less than 12 hours earlier. Instead I saw in my mind Jesus in the Garden of Gathsemane. I cried through the words that came to mind, "God, I don't want this to be true. I don't want bear this cross. If this has to be, then please help me do this with Grace and Dignity".

Truth can't be undone. Time will not recede. God can't grant wishes of resurrection to those who pray better or ask more deeply. God does answer prayers for grace, dignity, mercy, compassion, forgiveness. I've been blessed with the ability to accept God's Grace and to approach life with Dignity. I don't always accept the blessing. Angry, bitter, and mean is a choice. Grace and Dignity are a daily reprieve. Today I have a choice. There was a time in my life when I had no willingness to choose a healthy way. Today I have a choice. I'm grateful for the answered prayer; for the daily reprieve.

These are some of the last photos I know of. Aaron with his cousin and guitar on Easter Sunday, and Aaron with lifelong pals Zach and Erik at a wedding in April.

Things I Left Behind

When life experiences happen and moving is the choice chosen, a person can fit only so much in a U Haul truck or trailer. I left  things behind two years ago and  still carried out more than I needed. Self preservation inspired me to another destination. I never grieved the loss of this relationship. But grief doesn't care if you pay the price now or later; grief knows you will pay. Been paying the man for over three weeks. I pray this debt can be settled soon. Let me go. 

I spent a good amount of energy packing things that I had kept and decided to return. I'm stuck with pictures I can't seem to delete, and memories that may be more or less reality. I can't look at either. 

This morning I was laughing about all the stuff I packed up to move. It occurred to me that the really important tings were left behind. I left the hill with the spring breeze made for flying kites. I left maple syrup days of spring,  the the aroma of the cooking syrup, the laughter of the families who joined us to make Sticky Fingers Old Smokey. I left the shade. I miss the hammock. The compost bin I made had to stay, so did the gate on the garden fence. The old shed I left better than I found it...it;s useful again.  The tall grass prairie we planted and groomed will never be gone...the six foot tall thistles may be forever too. I left the last turkey I couldn't catch up to. I hope he's safe. The giant dark summer sky filled with stars is still there.

Last night I had dinner with the young lady I left behind...she's not my daughter but will forever be my girl. She was 12 when we left our reservations about each other and broke the ice with Zanzibar Chocolate ice cream. She's 18, smart, confident, considerate, compassionate, and safe. Pretty sure I left an indelible impression on her. She's the most forgiving young person... I kept every insight she gave me. Treasure every one.

We can't take it with us and that's the way it should be. I left behind amazing days and spectacular nights. I didn't leave the serenity...that was taken away. I left behind the anger and sorrow of people who I pray find their peace. I carried the resentment toward them far to long. I'll leave that along the road and count my blessings.

To Reach This Shore

For hundreds of years, and probably longer, people have risked their lives to cross that ocean and walk on the shores of North America. Some set sail by choice, others by force. To some this shore might have meant hope, to others despair. How many souls vanished in that ocean taking with them their hopes and dreams and fears? And, here I stand as if it's nothing.

The connected world overwhelms me. Without people trying by any means possible and failing by every means possible, we would not be moving effortlessly from sea to sea. I take it for granted that I can step on a ship that floats or flies and be on the other side of the ocean with virtually no risk. Five hundred years ago, what courage must it had taken to set sail in a wooden boat to navigate this sea?

I have no problems. I have no great risk to do venture anywhere. Those problems and risks were burdened by people who had nothing compared to what we discard as out of date today. We are the caretakers of this beach today. We don't own it. I'm grateful to have visited it and contemplated my life here today. I'm grateful people reached this shore when it was near impossible.

For The Rest of My Life or For Today

For the rest of my life. I can't do this for the rest of my life. Fortunately, the rest of my life is not all in one day. I can do this today. What I like about living in the present is today is today and it's only today.

My resentments were born yesterday. Today is not yesterday. I can leave the resentment where it came from: in yesterday. No reason to bring yesterday to today. There's no room.

Tomorrow is where fear lives. Today is not tomorrow, so no reason to bring tomorrow's fear into today. Today is today and right this moment is really all today is. Right now. Now. Now. Now.
Right now I have no resentments and no fears. When I leave today and go to yesterday or tomorrow I walk into resentment and fear.

I only have today. I've made mistakes in the past, Good chance I will stumble in the future. But today I am able to be the best man I am capable of being when people need me most to be me. No one needs me yesterday. Tomorrow will be today. And today I am able to do.

Family of Five

He wore an orange t-shirt to drive this white flat bed truck east into the city of Milwaukee. Only 7:45 AM, the driver had a delivery to make before noon. A jointed mechanical arm extended backward, over the cab and set the claw bucket on the truck bed safely to the side of the cargo. Like the driver, the mechanical arm had  a job to do this morning, and it would do it well as it was built for one purpose; dig a six foot deep hole in the earth, wide enough and level enough for  a crypt.

This machine had a full day of work ahead because on that flat bed truck road two adult size gold painted crypts to hold caskets. At the foot of the adult crypts rode obediently, three child size crypts painted bronze. Three months ago it was Christmas and this family celebrated. In one week it will be Easter.Surely there are Easter baskets the friends and family members would prefer to fill over these crypts.

I'm going to wonder about that family of five I passed on the highway and never met. Peace family of five.

Tell It Like It Is Aaron Neville

Life is too short to have sorrow. You may be here today and gone tomorrow....go on and live.

Music is a magic carpet. Songs are aromas to our ears. Baking bread takes me to 1966 in a Grandmother's kitchen. Outboard motor exhaust puts me in a boat on lake with my dad. Aaron Neville puts me horizontal looking out a window at new leafs on branches swaying in the warm breeze of spring, May 2005.

 It's a dark March night ten years removed from the early spring days when I cried myself to sleep day or night to Aaron Neville. All I have to hear is the start of a song, his voice high, deep, resonating,  A Change is Gonna Come. Oh it's been a long time comin, but I know change is gonna come. I can still hear the tears hit next to my ear on the pillow. It Feels Like Rain. Just like a hurricane, and it feels like rain...clouds roll in across the moon...and it feels like rain. (This guys voice is mellow clear) Batten down the hatches...it looks like we're in for stormy weather....let it wash away the pain, and it feels like rain. Baby can you feel it? Let your love fall down on me.

Don't Take Away My Heaven. If you ever say goodbye, I couldn't stand the pain...and the sun would have no were to shine. Baby please, don't take away my heaven. To Make Me Who I Am. I always was a dreamer...traveled some crooked roads...fallen on my knees to God...but it took me who I was and where I've been to make me who I am. The Grand Tour. Step right up if you'd like to take the grand tour...some things to tell you that will chill you to the bone. Now she's gone forever and this old house will never be the same without the love that we once knew. And the clothes are in the closet...left me without mercy...Step Right Up. Come on in.

Warm Your Heart. Well we're all searching for peace of mind...walk with me. Hold my hand and warm your heart. Amazing Grace. How sweet the sound. Even if My Heart Would Break. I never want to let you go. Stand by Me.When the night has come...and the moon is the only light I see...I won't be afraid....just as long as you stand by me...I won't cry and I won't shed a tear. So darlin darlin stand by me.  Stand by Me was a favorite movie of Aaron's. I'm sure I cried my eyes out.

Somewhere in the middle of the beautifully sad, reflective songs on came You Never Can Tell. It was a teenage wedding....goes to show you never can tell...the coolerator was crammed with TV dinners and ginger ale..seven hundred little records all of them rhythm and jazz. I would listen to hear the words. I'd heard the song, Chuck Berry I think, but never zeroed in on the words. I wonder if they put this song in because even grief needs a timeout,

That's the way it was so long ago forever now. If life is a book for me, Aaron Neville's voice turns the pages back.   Tell It Like It Is.

Ten Years Paying the Toll to the Troll

Too few photos exist from 10 years ago. These were all taken April 2, '05 or later up to about May 6, '05. O.A.R. songs were often heard in our house when Aaron was home. "I just want to make you laugh, I just want to see that smile. Babe we're only here for a little while...I want peace."

Unacceptable conditions inspire people to demand an end to insanity. Some insanity can't be changed. Every hour grief requires  acceptance of the unacceptable. Acceptance yesterday, or this morning,  doesn't do it for now...right this minute. For those who see that as not accepting, as I see it, there is nothing but this moment. We can not accept what is in this moment for a feeling that will be in a future moment.  

In the first months of this journey I spoke to a man who's daughter had died. How long ago? I asked. Two years, said the dad. I swallowed hard and cried at the thought of living with this for TWO YEARS. Maybe I've been walking for ten years to get to the end or to get away from the sorrow of the start. It's always there either tagging along or standing in the way blocking the ahead. I'm pretty sure I am looking for something. I want to find you.

A video exists of a very young Aaron telling the story of the Troll and The Bridge to two kids younger than him. He learned that story from me. Because it included a scary Troll and danger Aaron loved the story. He also loved the story I made up of The Man in Black. Unknown danger. That man waited in the dark shadows of a train station. You could not board without facing The Man in Black and his intentions. The anniversary is the Troll, The Man in Black.The next year is the bridge, the train. The Troll won't let me pass without paying the toll. The Man in Black won't let me board. It's out there...that Ten Years. The image makes my jaw tense. They're just feelings. They're not real. Feeling the winter sun through my window is real.

Normal Wear and Tear

There is no protective finish against tears. 

Tears cut through hearts, defenses, and time. Wood stain can only dissolve in a pool of tears. Built  during World War II for government offices, these heavy desks processed the words, numbers, and letters of war. They retired to private offices in the 50's. By the 80's they were being saved from junk and restored. This one  arrived as a wedding gift in 1984, saved from a junk heap. The finish was deep, dark walnut. The entire desk had heavy drawers, solid legs; it weighed a ton. I know that because I moved it five times before the day of dismemberment. The top had to be saved; it held the scars of normal wear and tear and more.

Patrick has my first baseball bat vintage 1965. Mickey Mantel engraved, all wood, slim handle, built for a little boy. A baseball bat gets grass stained on the handle end and barrel from being flipped, tossed, and dropped as the batter sprints to first base. The handles preserves the DNA of all the boys, and the occasional girl, who swung for the fences of the backyard. It's the barrel that holds the images of deeper memories. The impressions of struck stones left their mark. They remind me of challenges to hit a rock further than a friend. Along with the tick of striking the rock, I still hear the reprimands of dads: "Hey, you two! That bat's not for hitting rocks. You're going to damage it." I've forgotten the days but the memories of the instants are as clear as the dents. I remember knocking that rock into the neighbor's field and admiring the chunk that rock left on the bat. That bat is not damaged by normal wear and tear. Baseballs and rocks are normal objects for a kid to crush with his bat.

I know the meaning of wear and tear. It's the "normal" that perplexes me. Deep, dark walnut stain faded to tan over the last ten years. Scratches, gauges, pokes, and spills of coffee, tea, water, and tears are the reminders of what wore and tore me as I wrote the bulk of this blog starting May 8, 2005. I would change everything about the two days that followed. This blog could have continued as a review of books. Somebody else could have recorded their journey of grief.  I'd never change the reminders of that time when rocks of pain were crushing me and leaving their mark on my heart and desk. I'll never refinish this desk; it's finished with the stain of abnormal wear and tear.

A Short Walk to May

Many days have passed since I logged any thoughts on this blog. Unrecorded thoughts drift around in the universe where they go I don't know. Maybe I don't care. 

Ten years ago tonight Aaron flew home from Bend, OR. We picked him up at the airport, brought him to the house. He started to unpack and then walked across the street to see his brother Patrick who was watching the neighbor boys. It was dark, maybe 7:00 PM. I don't know what Patrick's reaction was, although he knew Aaron was coming home. I recall hearing the boys remark about how big Aaron was. He looked big to me too.Broad shoulders, tall. healthy.

Ten years ago our goal was to stay in the moment. Not project. Not worry. Be grateful Aaron was home. Take it one day at a time. A year and two months had passed. Aaron was Aaron. Content, a little nervous, humble, and alive. 

I guess this is the official start of the count down to ten years. This is being written on the same desk top that the first posts were recorded almost ten years ago. The tear and snot stained wood reminds me of how hard I cried for so long. I don't like to go to this place of choking grief. The choice is not mine. How familiar the tension in my head, the strain in my gut, clench in my jaw.I thought Aaron was home forever but forever was less than four months. It's a short walk to May from here.

(The quilt was made by Liz Kritter. Old Tshirts of Charlie's. One is an Aaron J. Meyer Foundation T shirt)