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Tuesday, July 29, 2014

The Night Darkness Set In
                A little over two weeks ago I had a very real brush with death. I was told by a few police officers after the fact how lucky I really was. A mere turn to the right instead of left and I would not be sitting here in pain writing this little story. I remember it all, yet can’t recall much if that makes sense. I still see and dream of the oncoming headlights and the noise, the noise of metal on metal, of glass shattering. Of wind shield pieces in my mouth and why I couldn't get out.
                Flash lights assaulted my eyes and voices were heard, but no faces were seen. “Where do you hurt” and thoughts of where I didn't hurt seemed like the better question. Ambulance sirens cut through the night and chaos around me echoed. But to the best of my knowledge I was alive, oh ya the pain told me as much. I was told that the Jaws of Life were to be used to help with my escape from my bondage. Jaws of Life seemed an odd term to me, but one I was happy to hear as it pried open the door.     
                I was told I would be air lifted and thought “Great I’ll die in a fiery crash”. I was moved to a board of some type, pain announced its protest. The ride to the hospital for the most part was very quiet and smooth. Questions were asked of me and I responded the best I could. We landed a little under an hour later I would think and made the very painful way to what I assume was an operating room. My clothes were cut from my body. I remember thinking “Great I really liked that t-shirt and shorts”.
                I was probed and prodded, I was stuck and sticker. Braces were applied and screams, my screams could be heard. Damn that hurt and still does. Broken bones were counted and assessed. The worse ones given priority over the lesser ones. My breathing was labored and pain was felt with every breath as it still is today. A tube was inserted into my right lung to let blood and fluid drain, and yes it did. Infection and pneumonia was a big concern. It was a strange sight to see my blood, my fluid in the tube. Not really red, but a pinkish liquid.

                Here it is a little over 2 weeks since that night darkness set in and my pain has not lesson at all, in fact there are times it seems worse. I tire easy and have loss some weight. My appetite is not the same and I have yet to sleep in a bed. A lazy boy is my best friend right now. I find it a chore to walk more the 100 feet and my breathing protests if I try to make it longer. I am lucky I have been told, this could have been so much worse, to me this is worse than I expected. 

Friday, July 11, 2014

The Heaviest of Hearts

                A few days ago I embarked on a journey into my past to save my future. No this is not some riddle from a mad man, but a crying out of sorts to be saved. Not a pity party or “I need hugs or prayers”, but just a journey that only I can take and I can save. It was a journey that was a long time coming and I have only myself to blame. It is embarrassing to think why it took so long to make.
                A part of my selfish self, dreaded it because it was my past and I was not ready to comfort it. In saying this I started to realize how my daughter and her family must have felt that “Daddy” and “Grandpa” hadn't been around in a while. See this was and should never have been about me, and for that I am truly sorry to those I was supposed to love. I cannot take back my past, but I can learn from it to save my future.
                I spent 2 great days with my Bam-Bam, her husband, and my Rugrats. I was asked all kinds of questions and tried to be as silly as a grandpa is supposed to be. It wasn't very hard to do lol. I may be 55 years old, but I was transformed into a child for those 2 days. I hugged, I held, I laughed, and the smiles and laughs that I got back in return were priceless. Although my daughter is 27 to me she was as young as her kids.
                I tickled her and pinched her nose. I held and hugged her as if she was fragile. Her smile was the most beautiful think I have seen in so many years. We shopped and talked, we messaged each other on Facebook although we were a few feet away. She makes me so proud. As the hours passed I started to dread my trip back to my world, but thought of the next time.
                If emotions were a roller coaster I would have the longest, scariest one on earth. People would flock for miles around to hitch a ride on my emotional trip. I can never take back the 10 years I spent in prison and more importantly the 10 years I stole from her and her family, my sons, and my family. It is a daily struggle to overcome the guilt, but it is one I am winning. It is a long battle and I fear it is one that will last a very long time, if not forever.
                We all face trials and tribulations in our life, some make the right choice, while others do not. Some deal with certain circumstances better than others. Some have the support of family and friends while others, sadly do not. For me those 2 days I spent with my family started to erase those 10 years I spent in prison. As I write this I think of those little faces and smiles. Of the looks I got as if to say “Grandpa is silly”. I think of the look on my daughters face and it melted my heart. I saw a 10 year old girl trapped in a 27 year old body.

                 This writing is dedicated to her and her family, and to my sons. I may not have seen them this go around, but the words will be the same. To the rest of you out there I hope my words have comfort for you in your life. I may be talking of my daughter and grandchildren, but it speaks to you and yours. Don’t let time slip by, have no regrets that will eat at you. Regrets that keep you up and night, regrets that eat at you day and night. Baby I love you so much, and daddy is going to be ok.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

The Rat

                He was vigilant of his surroundings, always aware of the sights and sounds, he had to be. This part of Old Montreal was home to them. They thrived along the water front. They could hide among the ships and shore lines, the docks. The back alleys, their playground. Tonight they would hunt, not for food, but the lust of the kill. Mack Delaney had hunted them since Bosnian, before the NATO bombing started in 1996. He was good at what he did and the Institute knew that.
               
               Tonight Delaney was back in his old neck of the woods. He knew the area well having played all around here as a kid. He knew the smells of the river, the sounds, he loved this place. This time was different, this time he hunted them. There had been a killing down on the docks two nights ago that had all the markings of them, “The Flock the Institute called them. Delaney now worked for Lawrence Kolb who started the Institute for Alternative Thinking.

                Delaney worked alone, he had trained with the best in the military, and his years in prison taught him a side of himself he never knew existed. He had no family or love, making him perfect for this job. His past had made him cold and uncaring, a perfect killing machine. At times his mind would drift and he would think of memories with a smile, then reality of a hunt would snap him back. Memories could be dangerous he though, they can cause weakness in a man he was told. Movement to his right caught his eye and he approached cautiously. 

Friday, July 4, 2014

“My Son, My Father, My Brother, My Husband”
               
                He goes by many names to so many, yet is the same person. He is loved by so many in so many different ways. He could be your son, he may be your father, maybe he is your brother, or the husband you have always wanted. Yet with all this love, he is so far away. Hours and days go by thinking of him, he is your hero, he is your strength, he is the air that fills your lungs, yet he is so far away. You read his letters and hear his voice, yet still he is so far away.
                There are times you can swear you feel his presence beside you and his unmistakable scent, yet miles upon miles separate you. He is a son to loving parents who love him unconditionally. It’s a love undying. A parent’s sadness no other knows unless your son is behind bars. Parents are hero’s in that they continue to live as a piece inside dies. My hat truly tips to them.
                For a child whose father is locked up it’s a feeling of not understanding why daddy is not home anymore, or is there to say goodnight. The man they hung on to and asked advice. The man who played catch with or taught them to fish. The man who was there along on that first bike ride. The man who met his daughters date at the door with suspicious eyes. The man who picked you up and smiled at you. The man so far away.
                For a sibling it’s the pain knowing their little or big brother is enduring something they can only imagine or have seen on TV. It’s the memories of Christmas spent in a childhood full of hopes and dreams. It’s that person you may have told on to mommy or daddy, that brother who had a magical way of making you so mad. It was that brother who stood up for you against others. That brother who looked after his little or big sisters no matter what.
                For a wife, he is the man they have chosen to stay together with through thick and thin, good and bad, happy or sadness. He is someone you feel at night beside you although he is so far away. He is the man who gives you hope when hope is no longer there. The man who makes you smile with a phone call or a letter. The man you would go to war for and not think twice.
                You all love him the same but in different ways. For some he will be coming home soon, while for others the dream continues. A dream you must never give up on. A dream that must live in you all. All of you can only do what you can do if that makes sense. Most of you continue to go to work and take care of children, some of you struggle with your own demons on top of the pain within.
                I hope these simple words I have composed tonight hit each of you in the way you want it to affect you. Your fight continues and no one can really know the pain each of you are going through. It’s easy for me to sit here and type away, but these words do have feeling even for me. I truly feel for each and every one of you in your own battle within.

                You are stronger than you think and this battle is very winnable, it’s up to you if you will let it beat you or you will kick its butt. He, that man, your son, your father, your brother, your husband needs you to be strong for yourself, but also for them. He may not say it, but you are he’s hero too. Fight the good fight and stay the course. 

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Who is he?

          I look in the mirror and I hardly recognize the face. He looks somewhat familiar, but much older. Wiser? Smarter? Not so smart, but wiser I could say. There are a few scars on his face and many lines that come with age. He looks tired and worn out, but he does look like a fighter. He has seen better days, and some that he would soon forget. There is sadness in those eyes, but at times a sparkle can be seen. His mind is strong and full of hopes and dreams. The past is playing in his mind, a past that is hard to forget.
         He thinks of love that was lost and times that are so distant that he wonders if they ever happened at all. Who is this person who clouds my mind? He has seen and done some good things and some very bad. But is he a bad guy? Maybe I should talk to him, maybe I can help exercises his demons? I am no one special but I have helped others before in their time of need. Is that a talent or just a heart and soul speaking through my lips, forming words that comfort others? 
         This face I see interests me for some unknown reason. I seem to remember that at one time he was a friend to many. He was very outgoing and craved crowds. He was called "The Life of the Party". Ya that's right I seem to remember that now. Something tells me he was born about 50 years ago, or more in a foreign land. That's right he played hockey I believe, and grew up in the east end of some big city along a very big river. The memories are flooding back, but the name still eludes me.
          He is no one special I think, not really someone you would remember or I would remember who he is. For some strange reason I miss him though. I think he may have been fun to be around although he doesn't look it now. Maybe I will find you one day old friend. I think a face can tell a story and this face has many stories to tell. That’s it old friend, tell your story, that will help.
          Well until we meet again stay strong and true to whatever you believe in and follow. Don’t waver in the least from what you hold dear in your heart. Keep your mind clear and thoughts pure. I guess that is good to tell him? We will talk again soon my friend.
         
                 



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