IT DOESN'T NEED TO BE LIKE THIS

                                   

I tried to think, last night, what it must have been like to get a call to go to the elementary school where your child was attending because there had been a shooting. I tried to comprehend what went through those parents’ minds when they arrived on the scene and saw all the police units; fire engines and ambulances. Then being directed to the fire station to frantically search for their child amongst the survivors. Lastly, I tried to somehow imagine what was going through those parents’ minds when their child wasn’t amongst the living; and they were directed to another room to receive the bad news that some homicidal manic had killed their child. Then, at some point, they had to gather themselves together and go home to the rest of their family and share the news. That night they sat in their child’s bedroom—broken-hearted and sobbing amongst their toys and possessions. Hugging their pillow, and perhaps a Tickle-Me-Elmo Doll to their chest, just to smell their child’s scent and to soak up their tears until they could cry no more. Gifts are under the Christmas tree that will never be opened.

I doubt the moviemakers could write a script like this. I don’t doubt that some day they will try. That day will come because what we witnessed yesterday is becoming commonplace in our society. As a Christian man, I live by two sets of laws. One of them, God’s laws, because I want to—and one of them, man’s laws because I have to. God’s laws aren’t open to change and misinterpretation. They are what they are. He is the judge and jury. His laws are final and concrete. Man’s laws once resembled God’s laws in this country when it was first formed. But it was a tough road for some people, and not much fun to live that way, so we changed them—now look what we have. Ah yes, we do have our freedoms but are our freedoms now our curse?

What kind of a creature can kill babies? Who can shoot an innocent child as he cowers in front of you screaming and crying because he just witnessed his teacher and his classmate being killed? Even animals will fight to the death to protect their young. We’re supposed to be ahead of animals on the food chain. I question that sometimes. Mental health experts have said we need to spend more money on mental health issues. How about we stop these people from becoming this way in the first place, by cleaning up the environment they are raised in? They weren’t born this way. Maybe we need to get back to God’s laws. That’s cheaper and easier than new hospitals and more prisons. I’m an old man now, but I do have one up on the younger generation. Every day, all of us make choices between good and evil in life—because we have seen good and evil—and the wisdom of age helps so much in those comparisons that are part of life’s bargaining process. Too many of the younger people today have no benchmark to go back to because all they have known is what we have today. That’s not their fault—that’s our fault. We’re the ones that let it slip away. So now we need them to try and change it before it’s too late.  Why? Because we have passed the torch and they are now in charge. When is it too late? I know twenty-seven families in Connecticut who it’s too late for. How many more times must we go through this before we change?

A NEW CHRISTMAS

                                              

Last year at Christmas I couldn’t comprehend how I was supposed to even begin to enjoy the holidays. For you see, the only thing I once swore I couldn’t live without, was gone. Grief has a way of darkening the sunshine, making the winter feel colder than it is and masking all of the things you used to enjoy. You don’t hear the birds sing or notice the flowers anymore. The Christmas music you loved so much falls on deaf ears, and those old familiar carols might as well be any old song. The very food you eat is flat and tasteless. You drink, hoping it will dull your mind and help you forget, but it only gives you a headache. You just want it all to be over. You feel as if you have been given a sentence to serve out, as your punishment for loving her.

Then something happened amongst all of those sad times. The days gradually grew longer, and all of that self-centered pity you yearned for didn’t seem that important any more. Slowly, the sun rose higher in the sky and its radiating warmth seemed to take your troubles and wash them away with the melting snow. For the first time, you sensed this was a process you needed to get through if you wanted to go forward again, and although there were no shortcuts, you could make it better if you just helped out a little. For the first time, you noticed others who had gone down this same lonely dark sacred trail, and they seemed to smile more often than they used to. You sensed the worst part of their journey, through this valley of grief, was coming to a close. By their example, they were urging you on and helping you get through it.

I went to the store the other day and bought a small Christmas tree. I needed to have a Christmas again, but it needed to be more subdued for now. So I purchased just a small tree with all of the lights already on it. In a closet, I found the box with all of the ornaments we had collected over the years. I picked out a few special ones—they all seem to have a story behind them. Then I found the nativity scene she loved so much. Each tiny figurine wrapped in little bubble wrap bags she had sewed to keep them safe. I set it up under the tree. Last year this would have brought a gusher of tears, but this year…well…it’s all right. I know she would have liked what I did and that’s important to me. I still need her approval-- even now.

I wrote a lot about her this last year—thanks for your patience with me. But this New Year is a kind of new beginning for me, so that part of my life is best left to fade a little. Not forgotten—just tucked away in my memory bank. A new day is dawning, and a new world is taking shape. What better time to launch it than at Christmas. One of the things that made her so happy was to make me happy, and now I need to take her example and make others happy. As old as I am, I’ve learned that you can’t run away from your grief. You just need to face it, use it all up and when it’s gone—in its place there will, once again, be new love and smiles. Yes, even a few giggles scattered there amongst all of the happy things that just can’t coexist in a sadly broken heart. So from my pup Molly and me, I wish you a Merry Christmas and may God bless all of you—and next year— well, let’s have lots of happy stories.                                                                                                                                          

IT WAS C-DAY AGAIN

                                                 

Well this year was the year, when it was time once more for the dreaded colonoscopy. As each day before my appointment ticked off the clock I felt more defeated and apprehensive beyond my wildest fears. I said to myself “You did it once you can do it again so suck it up big guy”-- but it didn’t help. It’s not the loss of dignity that bothers me. It’s not the fact people are going where no one has ever gone before, except my mother and with a camera. It was the dreaded prep I feared.

I admit I was better prepared this time. Fresh glade roll ups in the bathroom. Tape over the cracks in the linen closet doors. Twelve new rolls of the softest tushy paper money could buy. A new magazine by the commode and I took the brick out of the water tank. We need all the water we can get. I had the septic pumping truck on standby and because you can have only clear liquids, a bottle of tequila on ice in the shower. Just to be safe I re-torqued the bolts that hold that appliance I would be sitting on, down to the floor. Bring on the bowel prep.

I am not sure what constitutes a lethal dose of bowel prep but I think what they prescribed for me was pushing the threshold. In fact I wasn’t sure I could safely get it all in the top end-- let it pass through the system and then-- out the back door. There was only one answer. A beer bong and standing on my head and hopefully nothing would emerge before I consumed it all because now down was up and up was down and gravity would---Aw you get the picture. The last time I drank 64 ounces of anything at one setting was a night at the Tickle Toe Tavern outside of Staples some fifty some years ago. Fortunately I passed out and don’t remember what happened. That unconscious bliss was not going to happen to me this time drinking spiked Gator-aid. If the Army at Guantanamo had used this procedure instead of water boarding, we would probably know a lot more about terrorists organizations then we know today.

They have done wonders today making artificial flavors that can make almost anything taste good. I once ate a raspberry Popsicle that that was pure white in. color. With that in mind, and knowing you can only have clear liquids before this procedure, the next time around I am hoping that they will have a glass of colorless liquid that will taste like a bacon double cheeseburger. It’s over now and for the next five years, I’m a free man. Once again I can sneak one out without worrying about soiling my clothing. Once again I can hook up my trousers and have my dignity back.

But now in all seriousness, I encourage all people to have this simple test. Dying from colon cancer is a thousand times worse than this. Though I like to jest about things like this, I want you all to be healthy and safe.

SOMEONE TO LOVE

                                              

There comes a time, after you suffer the loss of your soul mate, where you start to temper a little. Now you see more clearly, the hurt that consumed your every thought, and you just couldn’t conceive of ever getting hurt like that again. So you went into this little shell where no one could get at you. You put blinders on, and just concentrated on getting through each and every day. Only your friends and family could break through this circle, and even with them, you were somewhat guarded—making statements like “Never again.” You didn’t say that because it wasn’t good, for it was—maybe too good, and you thought with a bar that high, would I ever be happy again with someone else.

If there is one thing that can leave a gaping hole in the human heart, it’s not having someone to love and care for. Nurturing seems to come secondhand to us. At nursing homes, I have seen the blank faces of those who are all alone in the world; faces that were long ago filled with smiles, now filled with hurt and loneliness.  Yes, we do have our families and friends to love, but they have families and friends of their own, too, and try as you may to love them and socialize with them, in the end, they always go home. The door closes once more, and then it’s just you and your thoughts, and no one to share them with.

Slowly, but surely, we poke our heads back out of our shells and look around. All at once, you start to realize that you’re not the only one in this state of mind. If you can find someone to make happy, then you just made two people happy. You’re still guarded though, because families are complicated and you’re not just one carefree person anymore like you were fifty years ago. Now you’re also a dad or a mom, or a grandpa or grandma, and part of a package deal—and so are they. Taking someone by the hand and gliding off to some Shangri-La to live in bliss for the rest of your lives sounds good, but not that feasible because that would be selfish love.

William Purkey wrote, “There comes a time in your life when you have to dance like there is no one watching, love like you’ll never be hurt, sing like there’s nobody listening, and live like its heaven on earth.” Yes, there comes a time when you have to let your guard down, and take those blinders off and be vulnerable once more. You open your heart, knowing there is a chance it might get broken again; and although you vowed it would never happen again, suddenly you’re willing to take that chance. For in your heart of hearts, you know that true love is usually scripted only in the films and when and if it happens to you again, it will be unexpected, and you have to be ready for it or it will pass you by. I think the great waking moment in two people’s lives is when there is no longer an “I” or a “you,” but just an “us.” In his book, “A Walk to Remember” Nicholas Sparks says, “Love is like the wind. You can’t see it, but you can feel it.”