Saved by a baby on Xmas

 I've survived at least a dozen suicide scenarios today.
I woke this morning in silent tears, from a horribly terrifying dream.
I was having difficulty breathing and couldn't shake the cloud in my head.
In the dream, I had been tricked into facing two major phobias. It was one of the worst most terrifying dreams I've had in a while.
I was so glad it was over.

Now I'm awake. I go to the kitchen and fix my coffee. I let the dogs out and when they/re all finished I sit down at my laptop to work an online jigsaw puzzle.
I can't do this however, because I glance across a news story about a child with cancer and begin sobbing uncontrollably.
I am SO Sad. I haven't been this sad in a long time.
I can't talk to people without getting choked up. It can be anything. I start to relay to Steve how one of the dogs was playing outside and I'm crying. I mention a sweet exchange between some tourists on the street and I'm choking for air, I'm crying so hard.
WHAT THE FUCK?
This is when I walk away, I mean I seriously walk off. I don't want contact with ANYONE.
I can't let myself be seen this emotional. It makes my heart hurt. My chest is tight. I can not breathe.
The thought of having to look someone in the eye and make conversation is too much to bear.
This is when my mind goes to the loaded 9mil in my nightstand. I start balling again.

Instead of dwelling on a way out of this bottomless pit of despair, I blast some Godsmack which really doesn't help, because, well, the fucking lyrics.
"Make me believe that this place isn't plagued
By the poison in me"
I had to leave the house. I went to our rental next door. Here I find silence. Nobody to make me talk, to make me cry.
I start cleaning the house, making the beds. I lie down and the sobbing returns.
How can I end this? What can I do to make this feeling of loneliness and sadness and absolute pain go away.
Steve calls my cell, I don't answer, I Can't answer. He thinks I'm mad at him. I'm not, but if I try to tell him, I'll just weep uncontrollably and he'll want to fix it and he just can't.
I can't ask HIM to pull the trigger.

I turn myself off, between fits of tears and yelling at the dogs, I've imagined at least 6 more ways to take my breath and leave me in peace. I won't look at anything, at anyone. Even a minute of conversation with tourists has me choking back tears. I want to SCREAM at them, because they can't see me bleeding. They're oblivious to the gun i'm holding to my head.
Steve can't see it either.
Yesterday, I imagined he and I joking and having a fun time at the grocery store. We were supposed to go today. Without looking at him, I told him to go by himself, that I wanted nothing. I knew he was hurt and I didn't look at him because if I had seen the confused look on his face, I would have burst into tears.
Instead, I pretended to be bothered and continued to clean the kitchen until he left.
That's when the sobbing got so bad I vomited.
I don't want to eat, I don't want to talk, I want Nothing for myself.
I ask on line for someone to go to the movies with him. He's wanted to go for so long now, but I can't. My feet and my legs are like lead.
Steve and a friend head off to the Cinema.
I just go to our bed and curl into a ball. I'm as small now as I can possibly get. Lying in the dark, in the silence, I weep again. Waves and waves of chest crushing grief and sadness. I want nothing more but to be dead. I can't bear this feeling any longer.
This is when my logical brain kicks in.
I can't do this to Steve, I can't do this to my kids, my grandkids, my family, my friends.
Maybe they'll all understand, I sobbingly say out loud. Maybe they'll be happy for me. Of course they'll all know the physical pain I've endured for so long and they're all aware of the clinical and very chronic depression. That will make it ok.
But xmas? I can't do this on xmas.


I listen to myself breathing, Patticake gets on the bed with me and I try to calm myself.
I'm gonna go for a drive and look at the xmas lights. Maybe that will help.
I end up at Petco for crickets for my Spiders.
OMG.... who's gonna take my spiders?
This is ridiculous.
Time to do something for me. My head is still clouded. It's like everything is muffled and blurry.
The store is out of crickets. I'm crying and staring at an empty shelf where the crickets should be.
WHO THE FUCK BOUGHT ALL THE CRICKETS.  Now my Spiders will die, I say to myself.

Whats this next to me?
They've got baby Dragons.
That's It.... If I have a baby Beardie to care for on top of the 6 Dogs, two Spiders, Parrot, adult Beardie and Steve, i'll get thru this.
I got a cart, got my Beardie Baby and loaded up everything I needed.
I get to the register and the sweet young lady that was ringing me up, began trying SO Hard to have a conversation with me. I just wanted out of the store.
This is when she pulls out a 20% off coupon and handed it to me. I looked at it and burst into tears.
Poor girl didn't know what hit her. She of course asked if I was ok and I brushed her off with a head nod of reassurance and was out the door.

My Baby Dragon looks Beautiful. His terrarium is awesome.

Steve comes home from his movie, I chat with him and our friend briefly, but refuse to get out of the chair that's my prison. I kept the blanket wrapped tight around me and almost pulled to my chin. Keep it together I kept telling myself. I laughed with them and once there, coughed back more tears

It's still easier to just act angry or bothered.

I still can't look at Steve. He doesn't deserve to be burdened with this.
He tells me he's going to bed, I can't even answer him.
I want to yell after him that I'm dying, but saying it out loud or even admitting it, makes it real.
My ears start ringing and I bury my sobs in my blanket so he can't hear. Now I know why I had clung so hard to it. I finished the movie I was watching, let all the dogs out again, and started turning off lights.
That's when I sat down here. I didn't originally intend to tell this story. I had thought I might write some sad piece of poetry for fb to dissect, but then this happened.
It's after midnight now.
I survived another day.
I hope my spelling wasn't too bad. I did write this through big tears.
It's not the holiday that has me down. This level of depression for me, comes and goes several times a year.
It's crippling and I'm sure one day it will arrive when the time is right to end it.
Tomorrow will be a new day, Another Day.
For now though, I have a baby that needs me.
Haven't named him yet and before you even suggest it, NO, its not going to be Jesús. 

Proud to Be Gay and don't you forget it.

 

 

 

“Hatred ever kills, love never dies. Such is the vast difference between the two.
What is obtained by love is retained for all time.
What is obtained by hatred proves a burden in reality for it increases hatred."

- by Mohandas K. Gandhi -”

 

 

Ya know, I often find myself doing chores during the day that give me time to think and that's often not a good thing.
I see so many people sharing their opinions about the rebel flag and gay rights here on fb and I've realized that most of them have Absolutely NO fucking link to southern heritage in the first place.
At least I was fucking born BELOW the Mason goddamn Dixon Line.
I was raised using the word Nigger and then I grew the fuck up. It's a hateful degrading word and it's use constitutes Hate Language just like the Fucking Confederate Flag. I Lived in Fl, That's about as deep south as I ever want to be although I will give FL credit.... it's not ranked as illiterate as some of its southern neighbors.
I saw first hand the racism. I worked with racist companies. I heard the racist remarks. I heard the racist jokes. I also heard the faggot jokes. They went hand in hand with racism.
All of these privileged, christian white men and women, all screamed heritage every time their little flag was attacked, but I knew otherwise. I had BEEN there.
When I finally did come out, while living in FL, I soon realized the only way you could be "accepted" as a gay man was to be a freak or something they could laugh at and enjoy, because otherwise you would be too normal and, well that just wasn't gonna be tolerated. So, as gay men. we walked to our jobs or home or to a friends house, while looking over our shoulder and lived in fear of always being attacked just for being who we were.
I was at work one night when some good ole boys drove by and put a few rounds thru the front window of the bar. One round went right past my head. Good Ole Boys? I think not. Racist Hateful Bigoted Homophobic Rednecks.... that's more like it.
I left FL because the Racial climate there was sickening.
It was an illness too many were suffering from.  I once heard a quote, that "those with nothing will fight the most for nothing" I totally believe that after living there.
I moved back to MD where I was once again "accepted".
How wonderful, my family "accepted" me. What The Fuck Ever.
I never needed anyones acceptance. Why would someones Acceptance make me feel better about myself? I was no different than they were. Maybe I was better, but by any means I was no less and definitely not in need of their acceptance.
Finally, Flash fwd 2015. We have a Black President!
The Confederate Flag is being Dropped Everywhere and Racism is NOT going to be tolerated any longer. Not even in the disguise of heritage. Marriage laws have finally changed, like they should have always been.
I am your equal, I don't require your acceptance or your tolerance. I won't allow your racist, homophobic bile to sicken my world any longer. Take your antiquated fairy tale beliefs, your bitter prejudiced disposition, and go back to the hole you climbed from.
Oh, and don't forget your flag.

This has been an exceptionally Grand Year for anyone that's LGBT.
Finally the laws are changing so that we, for once in our lives are starting to feel validated.
The years of struggle for equality, for our basic Human Rights to be Honored,
finally are starting to mean something.
The Right to Marry the person we Love and in some cases have been in love with for Decades, has finally come true.
Yes, we are Proud to Be Gay.
We are Proud to be part of an ongoing Story of Human Rights Struggle.
As long we breath, we will fight for fairness.

 

 

My Kiwi 5 ~ 31 ~ 15

 

July 30th 2014
My life changed forever.

 

Animal control called, like so many times before.
"We've got one for you, Dean".
That's all they ever have to say anymore, and I know to just go to the shelter.
What I usually find is a dog so abused and neglected that it practically takes a miracle to save them.
What I found this day, was a sad, yet fiercely indifferent, sweet little schipperke.

 

It took all of three days before she would even look me in the eye, but on that 3rd day, she turned and licked my nose.
This was Loves First Kiss.
Although she immediately looked away again. I knew I was in Love,
I also knew I'd be getting many more of those sweet little kisses.

 She had this strange habit of sleeping upside down and when she did, three of her only 5 teeth could be seen making her look like a slumbering Fruit Bat. This is what we lovingly called her, most of the time... our little Fruit Bat, but we had already settled that her name would be Kiwi.

It wasn't long at all before this angel was my permanent shadow. She slept by my head, she bit my feet when she wanted my attention, she'd go crazy when I returned home, much more so than any of the other dogs in the house.
I really was smitten with this yappy, always Happy little girl.

 

These were the eyes that melted my heart.
I could never say no to this face. She had become like oxygen to me. I was calm in her presence.
I relaxed with her in my arms. I could breathe again on stressful days with just a lick from her tiny tongue.

 She was my partner in Crime.
Kiwi Loved the Farm stores.
Everyone knew her and she knew how to win their hearts as well.

Kiwi even tolerated my attempts to be creative.
Yes, she pretty much did whatever I wanted her to do and I paid the price.
I also did whatever she wanted ME to do.

My upside down little Schipperkiwi

 

Eleven Months is how long she stayed part of my life.
July 30th 2014 to June 31st 2015

The first month I had her, she suffered a terrible cluster seizure.
It lasted over an hour. Immediately I had her to the vet and we started meds to help with this condition.
The seizures continued and although they weren't as severe, they were more often.
Many months of medication later, we decided to take her Off the drugs.
We changed her diet, the seizures stopped....
for a little while.
When they returned.... it was like watching her die every month.

Cluster Seizures that would last 90 minutes. Kiwi would be unresponsive and just as I would
make the call to let them know I was bringing her in... she would
snap out of it and run outside to go potty....
as if nothing had happened.

In between these random seizures, Kiwi would suffer bouts of bloody stool. This would happen for a day or two and then stop.
We had gotten used to the cycle. Seizure.... bloody stool.... fine again.
This time, the bloody stool didn't follow a seizure, it just started.
Late in the evening, there it was a few puddles of bloody poop.
Then we woke this morning, to several puddles on several pee pads. This was accompanied by vomiting and even More bloody stool, until the stool was just blood.
I gave her sub Q fluids to keep her from dehydrating, but as the day went on, she left us.
Kiwi was gone. What was lying in my arms was the shell of what was Kiwi.
She would stare into nothing and wouldn't or couldn't make eye contact with me.
This was the end.

 Each time she suffered a
seizure, my heart just ached.
I couldn't bear to see her in such
a confused and what appeared to be, painful situation.

It was killing me to think each time, that she was dying.
I've never lost one dog so many times.
Once, we really believed she did die. No breathing, no heartbeat and just when we all burst into tears..... her eyes flew open wide and she wanted down, so she could run outside.

My Kiwi.
So Happy, so Sweet, so Lovable and just a fireball of energy.
Always the Alpha, never giving in with the other dogs.
Picking fights with 100 lb Labs, and Positive she would win.

 Never more than a few feet from my feet, Loved the sun and LOVED to be legs in the air.
I've not known a dog like her and I likely won't meet another ever again.

 

I once had a little girl named Lexi, she was my sunshine. She made me smile even on the saddest days. She was pure goodness and if you had the opportunity to ever meet her, then your life will forever be better because of it.

Kiwi, was my Oxygen.
Tonight, when I knew she wouldn't be recovering like all those times before, I made that call.
I carried her to the car, I kissed her head, wrapped her in a soft blanket and put her alongside me for that last ride.
The rain was coming down so hard, there were cars hydroplaning and some were pulled onto the shoulder of the highway.
I didn't care, because I couldn't see the road for my tears. I couldn't breathe.
I gasped for air and words and thought and all there was, was pain in my chest where lungs should have been.
We drove on through the storm.
I just kept stroking her head and by now I had calmed myself, so that I could sing to her.
I loved to sing to Kiwi. I told her stories of adventures I had had with Lexi and how I would share the stories of adventures I had had with her, with others.

We weren't but a few miles from our destination when Kiwi, who hadn't been able to really focus on anyone almost all day, raised her head and looked straight at me.
"What's This?", I said.
Could she be snapping out of it one more time?
That's when she violently threw her head back with one last seizure.
Head back, stiffened and she was gone.
Oh Hell...... Why can't I breathe?
Why does it hurt So bad?
She was still alive but she wasn't responsive.
Why had I waited so long?
What selfish bastard allows something so wonderful and innocent to suffer this long.
I wanted to just die with her.
How could I continue to live when my oxygen was dying.
What would keep me alive tomorrow?

We're There.... that room, where all dogs die.
That Place where misery is cast aside for Peace.
The Needle pierced her vein....
I held her so tight I could feel my own heart pounding.

Gone.... she's gone.
Why am I not dead?
Why am I screaming and unable to make a sound?
She never moved.
Her eyes never closed.
She didn't gasp, or cry.
One second I was holding the definition of unconditional love and now, nothing.
Her soul had left me as peacefully and as beautifully as that first kiss she ever gave me.
Loves first Kiss was now a memory.

A memory that would help me breathe again.

No more pain, no more sadness.
Kiwi is forever in my Heart.

 

 

Not for Sale..... NOT to You.... Not Ever

I Am An Animal Rescuer.

I recently saw you ask on a Rescuer Facebook Page other than mine,
"Are you selling those Puppies"?
Selling is such a dirty word.
I automatically disqualified you from EVER owning a dog.
FIRST... you have no concept of what a Rescue does, if you're friends with a rescuers FB page and still asks that question.
Secondly.... Because of the first reason, you're just an Idiot.

When a rescuer gives up 8 to14 weeks of their life to take in an abandoned Mama and her babies, most people, unless they've actually done this, have no clue what it involves.
Spending day in and day out making sure they're healthy and socialized and get the required amount of kisses each day.
The first week or so, the pups have to stay very warm and dry and Mama fed ENORMOUS amounts of food and water, which completely translates into ENORMOUS amounts of piss and shit.
The Absolute LAST thing we ever want to hear is,
"How much for the puppy", or
"Are you selling them"











Not always do all the puppies survive. Often one or more are born dead or die soon afterwards. It's not our fault, but it sure breaks our heart and we usually take responsibility for it. It's most always because the poor mama was so neglected or abused prior to being rescued.
There isn't a soft bed out there that can undo the damage caused by Abuse.
So, Mama arrives, babies are born, and if we're lucky, they're all healthy and live.
Now you say,
"So whats the problem with asking if they're for sale"?
Well for starters... Because you're Still Stupid.
and Two.... the roller coaster of managing life has only just begun.












Day in Day out, late nights laying on the floor keeping that terrified mama calm and building trust.
Showing her she'll still be loved the next day and the one after that, and that there'll always be food and water, so she doesn't have to scarf it down or growl while she eats it. Rubbing her ears while she fitfully slumbers and wondering how she got all those scars..... Probably from protecting any of the many litters of pups she had before this one..... before she had YOU to do it for her.
Looking over at her babies, the pain in your chest grows so big you realize your sobbing before you even feel the tears.
How can I protect this litter? How can I make SURE that each one of them is more than just what someones wallet could afford? What if they're not ready for the world by 8 weeks? What if I fail them? Will they be socialized enough? Will the new owners take the time to continue socializing them? Will they Love them and hold them and protect them like the child they are?
"Am I Selling Them", you so ignorantly ask......










There isn't an amount of money that could calm the fear we have, that they won't be loved as much as we know they need to be. No amount of money can remove the knowledge we gain when we hear someone flippantly ask, "How Much Da Dog"? 
Show some fucking respect. If not for us, for this dog that you allowed to fall between the cracks..... to be forgotten.
While you were wondering what that Dumbass Kanye was going to do last week, a few thousand dogs were Killed in Shelters in the US alone. Not your fault, you say... BULLSHIT, I say.
It's everyones fault. Because of your ignorance and your uneducated request, we know for FACT, it's your fault. Ignorance breeds ignorance.
You apply for the puppy. We investigate you. It's easy you know... Facebook did that for us.
Oh, I see you have 3 pitbulls that aren't neutered according to your photo album, and when I question you about that you actually tell me the truth.
Oh How you cried when they put them all to sleep for killing your neighbors yappy dog. I want to feel bad for you, but I have a Greater Urge to put a Stake through your skull.
Now you want to start over again, and you want to take one of MY babies to do that.
"Am I Selling Them"? , You're fucking Nuts!

Oh, those pups.... their eyes opened around 12 days old. I was there that day. I couldn't leave them. I know they couldn't really see me yet, because it takes about 4 days for their vision to clear up, but I wanted them to not be afraid of this new thing, so we played on the floor all day.
I held them and cooed in the ears, which by the way... at this age they're still deaf. I know you didn't know that, because you're stupid. I've now spent about two weeks doing load after load of laundry in order to make sure these pups are dry and warm and my home doesn't smell like shit. Scraping shit out of blankets and bleaching and mopping the floor where Mama lives when she's not nursing.
See Mama is still bleeding, because she's most likely been bred MANY MANY times before, and this just happens when the uterus is so abused. So I clean the floor and I wash the blood from her legs and I tell her it's all ok and I hug her neck and I laugh at the funny way she insists on licking behind my ears as if I'm one of her pups. Its been just two weeks... Can I love this dog and her pups any more than I already do? Probably not. I'm starting to get hopeful. The puppies appear to be doing well and now I look forward to meeting the new starry eyed potential adoptive families that will inevitably be emailing and messaging me daily. All of them with questions about potty training and vaccinating and crate training and which collars to use and most importantly it seems, what to feed them.
Funny though, Most of these wonderful people, even though they'll Never get a puppy from me, because, let's face it... there are only 7 pups, they all will have one thing in common and that's Intelligence. The one category where you have Failed.
It really boils down to a bad choice of words, but then, your entire existence is most likely a train wreck of bad choices..... according to your FB page.
"Am I Selling Those Puppies"?














4 weeks of age... the puppies can hear!!! Now the fun begins. They actually growl at me when I enter the room. they're starting to bark too. It's so cute, I've probably clogged You Tube with videos of them already. See this stage lasts only a few days. Shortly their growls and barks AT me will turn into Happy whining and barking FOR my attention. Escaping their crate while I'm trying to sort laundry and chewing on my slippers. Getting under my feet and falling asleep in the strangest places, which I quickly discover are the hardest to find when you think a puppy is missing. I remember all of these things. Who escaped the pen first, Who opened their eyes first, Who ate from the food bowl first, Who was the first to finger paint on the laundry room door.
You say you could love these things too if you had the chance like I have.
I know you don't have the fortitude to handle this and based on your disregard for what we go through, you don't have the right.
It's been one month... seems like no time at all, but you're not counting in seconds and that's how it's done. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week, Mama and these babies are in your thoughts.
In your dreams, your waking thoughts, all day long, right before bed. They never leave your mind.
"Puppies For Sale" Heartless and Impossible

The next 4 weeks Fly by.... LMAO. As if time were going backwards and puppies were getting fatter and more mischievous. I'll admit, there are times during this 2nd month when I contemplate having an outside kennel. Sometimes the smell is SO Strong. Usually this happens just before company arrives and the AC fan sucks the aroma in and disperses it through the ENTIRE house. Even the smell of a roast, slow cooking all day, can't overpower the vomit inducing powers of Seven Puppies shitting all at the same time.
See, at this age, they sleep, they wake, they Piss, they Shit, they eat, they play, they eat, they shit, they Piss, they play, they Sleep and Repeat.
It's our job to keep them clean, and supply enough water and food to help them grow while continuing the whole maddening piss and poop cycle.
Lets not forget, their faces. Now they're old enough for us to say without a doubt that there was most likely more than one father to this litter. Either that, or Daddy was a Serious Heinz 57.
We love them all for their own unique personality and appearance, but you won't.
You know what you want, and it's the rare one with the Red Nose. MORON.
There is NO breed standard with this breed, so try again. Think of another reason why you just HAVE to have That one.
What was that? Do we HAVE to spay them? I'm sorry...I just had a little stroke there.
Could you repeat the question? I'm having difficulty unstrapping my pistol.
You want to Breed her?
This is when I start to question my existence on this planet. Is it to calmly educate them one at a time or does this world really need one more mercenary?
My brain freezes for a moment and suddenly every dog that's ever laid in my arms while it passed to the bridge, every puppy that never got the chance to live, because it's mama was too malnourished to grow them healthy, every beaten and terrified soul that learned to no longer cower from my touch, came crashing back into view.
I start to cry and realize I could never be a mercenary, but I can't remain calm either. I am not an educator. I don't have the patience for this amount of Dumb.
"No, we're NOT Selling these Puppies"!

My Babies and their Mama are part of an elaborate Lottery where people enter by filling out applications. We review those applications and make our choices based on many requirements, and of course expect a generous donation which never ever covers the costs, just so we can do this all over again.
Some of those application requirements are secret, so that you can't just pad yours.
I will share this one with you though..... You can't appear to be an ignorant swamp dwelling 'tard and expect to be awarded one of my Babies. If you expect to take a piece of my heart, my sweat, my tears and make it your own, you'll have to willing to trade a living Unicorn for it.
Now, as for You, Go Away.
Go Away before you Really Piss me off.
Go to a shelter, where they'll Gladly hand you a puppy in exchange for your rubber check.
Go to a shelter where you KNOW they're "selling Puppies" and you can complain about the fee while you flap your face on that blinged out I-Phone, that broke one of your 2 inch nails when you pulled it from your Gucci rip off purse.
Hurry, before me or another Rescuer can find them and whisk them off to safety.
Hurry, before we can save them from someone like you, who just wants to
"Buy a Puppy"







Meanwhile, during that adoption event, where you try one more time to acquire a puppy and get told, NO, the one person, or sometimes group of people, who were there for this little family for the last two months, are quietly dying inside.
A mixture of happiness and blinding sadness. Emotionally Raped, from watching little pieces of ourselves being lifted by new arms and covered with strangers kisses.
How can we make sure that Mama knows her babies are safe and she'll never go through this again? If I'm lucky, some other Rescuer has taken Mama home by now, so the puppies could be weaned. At least today when it's all over I won't have to go back home to her sad face. I'll have bursts of tears all the way home, and when I get there I'll be quiet and do that last load of laundry.
I might clean the crate, mop the floor. I'll do this despite the sadness and the tears and the bittersweet joy, because tomorrow, I might just get that emergency phone call asking me to take another.
I have to be ready. I tend to my heart, I look at pictures. I can still smell puppy breath. I touch my neck and imagine Mama giving me one of her special hugs.
Days pass, puppy pics start to arrive and I see happy families loving and spoiling my babies..... No, Their babies. I get a call and hear Mama has a Wonderful Application. She'll get to go live with a family at the Beach... How Awesome!!!! She deserves a Lifetime of Beach Vacations!
The Phone rings again and I'm out the door. This time it won't be so easy. This time, Mama is sick with heartworm and nursing newborns. She's terrified and lived her whole life outside.
I go to her, I give her my heart, I love her as my own. I post her story. I post her pups.
I'll NOT be Selling these Either, so Don't ask.

More

How am I not More?
The power to change my existence is mine.

Mindlessly moving, absent from the reality of whats going on around me.
I find myself more and more lost in my own mind.
Memories made are soon memories lost to dreams.
Wandering as a ghost among those living my life.
Why is everyone so sad, so angry, so alone?
The hate, the pain, the deception......
Would it change if my heart could beat, could feel, could love?

How am I not More?
The will to change my existence isn't mine.

The faces that stare, cold and without souls.....
only mirroring what lies just under my skin.
I have seen you many times before.
I have closed my eyes and wished you away.
I have fallen too many times from the weight of your critical judgment.
Escaping the monster lingering only a breath away....
This chill I feel isn't winter, but still it burns my throat.

How am I not More?
The fate of my existence is doomed.

Fatalistic, malcontent, aggressive, bossy, angry...
Just words, not labels, just words, not meant, just words.
Breathe, Smile, Laugh, walk away...
Never let them see the real you
Nobody can handle your real face, all scarred and bleeding.
The gaping hole where your heart belongs
No longer able to disguise or hide the husk of ravaged flesh you've become.

How was I not More?

Make Wonderful Things Happen (Letter to Richie)

 Jan 16th 1985, my life changed forever.
I was given the most beautiful baby girl. Something I felt then
and have felt often since, that I didn't deserve.
She was 3 months old the first time I held her in my arms.
To this day I can still remember how I had to sit down to hold her
because I thought I'd pass out from joy and exhilaration.
It took 20 minutes to stop the tears so that I could see her clearly.
I experienced emotion I'd never known before and it took my breath away.



She used to steal my AF Beret and wear it around the house. She was especially cute when she tried it
standing in my boots. I was probably guilty of spoiling her... yes, I'll admit it, but not bad spoiled.
She knew I was wrapped around her finger. I couldn't tell her no. Too afraid to make her cry I guess.

I'm not sure how much you know about her childhood.
Sadly I still feel today like I failed her and her brother and sister.  I lost my kids... There was so much of Cathy's life taken from me. This was also when the Joy was taken from her.
I knew something was wrong but what could I Do..... I was "just the Dad" according to a very flawed system. So I just watched and listened and hurt for her. Standing silent and helpless.

 A smile is something that should warm your heart.
When it's only there to mask the pain it's not real.
Cathy's been looking for real for many yrs. I truly believe she has found it, in you.
I finally see joy in her smile. I hear happiness in her laughter.
I hear contentment when I'm on the phone with her.
You've somehow managed to bring back to me that happy little girl I lost so many yrs ago.

Fortunately, Cathy has the heart of a fighter and made her way through the crap hand that she was dealt.
I almost lost her for good, but she wanted to know for herself, if the father she had been told was worthless, really was. I'm happy to say I never matched her mothers OR grandmothers description of me.
I'm not sure how sad and lonely my life would be without her. I hope to never find out.
I can't imagine living without her laughter, her sarcasm, her smile.

School photos and pictures taken, when she was visiting other relatives, always trickled to me and I've kept every one of them. Cards and magnets made in school, plastic bead necklaces, crafts from can tabs.... I have them all. Always from the sidelines watching her grow, watching how beautiful she was becoming.
Living through so many moments of sadness and torment and frustration only to trust again and be fooled.
Finally, has fate delivered an honest man for her? Are we to suspend suspicion and place faith once again in the hands and the heart of another?

That little baby that took my breath away, The little girl that could make me laugh and suddenly have energy to play after a 14 hr shift, still covered in camo paint, The young woman who took life by her own reigns and made herself into the force that she is today. I am in Awe of her and would give my own life to protect her.
I've stood silent for too much of her life. I even stood silently on the side of the highway, the night we almost lost her. I watched helplessly while the helicopter took off and it took my breath away.

There are few moments in my life that bear such significance as the birth of my grandson.
I was not prepared for this at all. I think I've done a pretty good job of concealing most of my joy.... LOL!!
Whatever... I'm not a poet OR a writer, so to try and explain what changed in me that day would be a waste of my time. If I actually knew what neurons were I might say I could feel them bursting in my brain. I went deaf, I lost my voice, I couldn't quit smiling and when I finally did stop.... hours later.... I collapsed into the deepest and most contented sleep ever.
I was a Grandfather. I had the most beautiful grandson ever by the most beautiful daughter ever!! How could this happen to ME? I didn't deserve this. Hadn't the world squashed over and over again my rights to such happiness? No, THIS time it was my daughter who said it was ok. This time it was my little girl who would, once again, take my breath away.

So, it's been almost 30 years since that day long ago, in that airport in San Antonio, TX when I first held my baby girl. 30 yrs of tears and laughter and anxious moments and fear and stress and love and anger and trust and doubt. Three Decades of wonder and joy and surprise and learning and accepting. Friends and family lost and gained, shoulders sagged with worry and sadness, but here, 30 yrs later we are, decisions to be made and love to be nurtured.

Here I Am, 50 yrs old, grey and getting greyer. Old and getting tired. Not sure how much longer I'll be allowed to stand on the sidelines to watch and protect. So, I've decided to change things up a little.
Instead of standing silently by and watching and WAITING....... I'm going to tell you how it should be... how it will be.
It's 10:30 on a weeknight, so you're most likely holding in your arms one of the most precious, priceless and irreplaceable people in my life. It's been way too many yrs since I've seen or heard her this happy.
As I said earlier.... you make her smile like the little girl I lost so long ago. I know it's just a matter of time before you come to me and ask the big question, so here goes.
Yes, Richie, You May Marry My Daughter.
Only if you promise to continue to love her the way you already are. To cherish her smile, to hold her close and to protect her with your own life. I give to you the honor of being her Husband, her friend, her partner.
I hand you the responsibility and the magic. Take her and make wonderful things happen.
I love you both.


                      Dad


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
UPDATE .... Less than 12 hrs later.....
Guess who got engaged????
YAY!!! I can hear little girl laughter all around today!!!
Love you so much. Can't wait for that walk!!

54 More

Despite our arguments and differences growing up, you always knew when to be the older brother. You knew what to say, whether or not I planned on listening.
I miss the laughter, the sweet twang when you called someone a Dumbass.
So many of my friends just don't understand how that can be an endearing term.
I guess it's because they never had you for an older brother.

You used to throw the hardest snowballs, and they Always hurt.
The day I ambushed you with that pile of snowballs I had frozen into chunks of ice, you admitted to me later that I was pretty smart thinking of that.
This was told to me while you were sitting on me making me eat dirt, but it didn't matter, because you were proud of me.

I survived adolescence because of your priceless knowledge. You gave me my first Porn Mag. It was one you had already memorized, but I cherished it...... Until mom found it and gave it to Dad.
Who knew there so many names for so many things and that I wouldn't actually go blind doing "it"??

You used to pick on me so much and at the time I never knew it was because you too were being picked on. I just thought you hated me.
I remember the day at the Sawmill when Dad got tired of you poking at me and broke that tobacco stick across your shoulders. You cried hard because of that, but not as much as I did for getting you in trouble. I never told you I was sorry.

One evening, running down behind the Big Barn to get the cows in before a bad storm,
you stepped on a rusty nail sticking up through a short board.
I got my red wagon and pulled you all the way to the house so Mom n Dad could doctor you. Damn you were heavy.

You saved me often, too drunk to drive, and taught me Hair of the dog in the morning.

You'd roll your eyes when you'd meet my girlfriends and I never knew why.
Years later you confessed knowledge of what took me too long to figure out.

You showed up at my wedding with an extra car and tried to force me to take the keys and run. How many times I wish I had listened to you, but then I wouldn't have my beautiful children.

When my life turned upside down and Gay, you never blinked an eye and accepted me for who you always knew I was.
I remember that late night in your garage where you so delicately told me how there were Other guys out there that I could call my "friend". You never liked "him" and again I should have listened. I'm happy you liked Steve.

I could fill pages with memories of you. You were kind with an immediate and accurate sense of sarcasm. We shared some awesome times together and some not so great.
I'll never forget Dads funeral when we both stood silently outside the church, each with tears falling. Why was it so hard to say how we felt?

Fifty Four was Way too soon to lose you. We were supposed to grow old and grumpy together. Mona still needs you and although your boys will continue to make you proud, they need their Dad as well. I don't know what I can do to help them, but I will make myself available. This world is a sad sad place with you not in it.
I met that beautiful grandson of yours today. What a handsome little man. I swear he was looking for you, so I let him tug on my beard instead.

I'm not sure how I'll get through this. It's hard to breathe.
I saw Mona and the boys today. They're all hurting and still numb.
I hugged them all as hard as I could.
I just want you to know, I've held it together for everyone else so far, but tonight I'm gonna cry. You were cheated of so much life. It's not fair.... it's just not fair. I miss you, Edward. I'm being selfish, but I want 54 more.
Say Hello to everyone for me.... you're with the Angels now.